8 - Death Train - 8th in the FLAME Series
by RBGirl
Summary: Kitty is the only witness to a murder - but why is the victim still alive? A special thanks to my grandson who guilted me into a rewrite. To all of you who have been so supportive I am so grateful for all of your encouragement. Thank you all. I do not own these characters although they truly own my heart.
1. Chapter 1 - Kansas City

Flame Series #8: Death Train

Chapter 1

Kansas City

Kitty linked her fingers together and stretched her arms up toward the fancy carved headboard. Once she had worked out all the kinks, she wiggled back down into the soft, warm blankets. "What are you doing in there?" Her voice was somewhere between a purr and silky smooth. After a few moments of silence, she sang his name like a sweet tune, stretching out the four simple letters. " _M-a-a-t-t"_

An adorable frown inched its way across her lips and she sat up, holding the sheet around her naked body. The melody in her voice was gone, replaced with concern. "Matt Dillon, answer me!" Two small feet slipped out from under the covers and touched lightly on the thick rug beside the bed.

There had been no sound **s** of a crash or a thud, so she was becoming more annoyed than worried. "If you make me come in there-" She stopped suddenly, realizing those were the same words used to threaten her children.

Just out of reach, in the chair by the window, lay her robe. It had been recklessly abandoned the night before when Matt had literally pulled it from her and tossed it across the room. With the window between her and the chair, she was apprehensive to give up the sheet. One last time, her eyes traveled from the closed bathroom door, to the window and then settled on the chair. With a heavy sigh, she decided to go for the robe.

Matt opened the door just enough to see into the bedroom. He watched Kitty chew on her lip as she tried to figure out how to get the robe. When he didn't respond to her second call, he knew she would come looking for him. Just as she threw back the sheet, he barreled through the bathroom door, bellowing in a deep, husky growl and snatched up her naked body before she could reach the chair. The sound and movement caught her totally off guard, as was clearly evident by her screams and flailing arms. He knew he would startle her, but he hadn't expected _this_ degree of resistance.

Matt held Kitty's naked body against his chest; his bellowing growl had been replaced by laughter. However, it was only _his_ laughter surrounding them as she had not found his antics to be that funny. "You scared me half to death!" Kitty squirmed in his arms, attempting to get free. "Sometimes, you can be _such_ a child!"

Before she could berate him any further, they were both silenced by a demanding knock at the door. The knock was accompanied by an announcement. "Hotel security. Mr. Dillon, please open the door."

Matt bit his lip to keep from laughing and tossed his wife unceremoniously onto the bed. Kitty scrambled to cover herself with the sheet. With continued amusement, he snatched up his own robe and slipped it on before obeying the man's instruction.

When Matt opened the door, he was greeted by a large, burly man. The head of security flashed his badge with the name of the hotel in small print and the name 'Pringle' in big bold letters.

To anyone other than the marshal, this Pringle fella probably would have been intimidating, with his chiseled features and dour expression. "I was...just passing by and heard a woman screaming. It came from this room."

Matt cleared his throat in an effort to assume a professional manner. It was obvious; that this man took his job seriously. "Yes, my wife…saw a mouse." The grin that he flashed worked wonders on females; but on Harvey Pringle, not so much.

"Could I speak with your wife, Mr. Dillon?" Although it was put forth in the form of a question, both men knew it was an order.

Matt could hear the nervous gasp from behind him and knew it was spawned from the fact that his spouse had not been able to retrieve her robe. "Speak to my wife?" He repeated the question as a question, though in a pitch slightly too high for himself. Matt could see that Mr. Pringle was quickly losing his patience.

He called over his shoulder to his wife. "Kitty, Mr. Pringle needs to hear that you are okay." Matt smiled at the hotel detective, expecting her to promptly call out to the concerned man. The two men continued to stare at each other, in silence—a long…awkward…silence.

"Kitty? Honey?" Matt broke the visual connection with Pringle, long enough to glance back at his wife. Kitty was sitting up in bed, completely enveloped in the blanket. A smirk resided proudly on her face, as she stared back at him in amused silence.

Matt pursed his lips in an air of defeat. "Listen, I'm a US Marshal and-"

"Then you should know to respect authority. Please…" Pringle motioned again for Matt to step forward.

Matt stepped out into the hall and watched as Pringle stuck his head in the doorway, while maintaining eye contact with his prime suspect. "Are you all right, ma'am?" As Pringle waited for a response, tired blue eyes were beginning to pass judgment on the fidgety lawman.

One moment of silence turned to two, then three; then Matt began to envision himself being drug off to jail. Just as he was picturing himself in prison garb, he was granted a reprieve.

"It's Mrs. Dillon," she called out at last. "I am _so_ sorry. I saw a mouse and… I am such a coward. Please forgive us for causing such a disturbance."

Matt listened to that voice, that sweet, sugar-melt-in-her-mouth voice. He watched Pringle's harsh features mellowed, as he fell victim to his wife's charms—even without seeing her. "As long as you're all right, Mrs. Dillon." He backed out into the hall "Hope you have a pleasant stay at the Eldrige."

Pringle turned from the room and cast Matt a look that only another man would understand. "Mouse? Uh-huh." As he started to walk away, Pringle leaned in and quietly advised. "Try to keep the noise down, Marshal."

Matt nodded, accepting the man's council. As soon as the house detective was out of sight, Marshal Dillon turned back into the room and slammed the door behind him. He leveled his gaze onto his target, while slowly easing toward the bed. Clearly, he wanted retribution.

Kitty's giggling trickled into a nervous silence. "Now, Matt, you had that coming. You started it."

"Maybe. Maybe not." he responded quietly. Too quiet. "You thought about letting him take me to jail."

"No! Huh-uh. No…" She shook her head in an exaggerated move "I would never have done that."

He leaped toward the bed just as she attempted to run. Matt pulled her back into his arms, pinning her naked body beneath him. He straddled her slender form with his massive girth. "You deserve some sort of punishment. What shall I do?" Pinning both of her hands to the mattress, he leaned down attacking her lips first.

In hindsight, he realized that was where he gave up the power. Those lips. Those sweet, luscious lips drove any thought of retribution from his mind. His thoughts quickly followed last night's agenda, which left them both, satisfied and breathless once again.

Kitty rested atop her lover, her ear pressed to his heart. She hummed a purring sound, while he lazily brushed his fingers through the long red locks splayed across his chest. One demure hand lay curled by her face. Matt reached down, taking her small hand into his large, yet gentle one, and brought it to his lips.

As he covered the fingers and palm with kisses, he whispered in a voice steeped with contentment, "I'm seeing a whole new side to Kansas City. I think I like it."

"See what you've been missing all these years? If you had just brought me with you…"

Kitty's words were drowned out by Matt's husky laughter. "If I had known _this_ waiting for me in Kansas City…" He leaned down taking another kiss for himself. The kiss ended so slowly, so sweetly it was almost like falling in love all over again.

For a moment, they were caught in each other's gaze; but the serene mood was broken by a sound that did not match a pair of sated lovers. Matt pulled back, his eyes resting first on Kitty's stomach, then inching their way back to her face. Her blue eyes danced with a girlish shyness, matching tightly pinched lips that tried hard to conceal her grin.

"Was that your stomach? What do you have in there?"

Kitty smacked at him playfully, "There is _nothing_ in there! That's the point. I'm starving!"

Matt rolled back enough to let her sit up. Kitty brushed the loose hair from her face and brought the sheet up to cover her nakedness. "Why didn't you say something?" His words were attached to a pitiful expression.

The expression didn't work, as Kitty returned a heavy sigh and used her body language to let him know his apology was not going to fly. "I DID tell you. I told you after we made love this morning. And again around noon; but _you_ had…other plans. Remember? Now, it's suppertime and my stomach is speaking for itself."

His sorrowful grimace did little to absolve him of his guilt. "You did. But that wasn't my fault."

Kitty, mildly stunned by his answer, let her hands drop to her lap, allowing the sheet to fall. "Whose fault was it then?"

Matt pulled himself upright, assuming an indignant countenance. "Yours! You did that— _that_!" he pointed to the perfectly shaped set of bare breasts before him. "Revealing those, it's kind of like…hypnotizing me. Then you said you were 'getting up,' but you dragged your naked body over me—what was I supposed to do!?"

Kitty was amazed that he was not only trying to blame her, but his sincerity was almost making it believable. Her eyes remained wide, but she managed to close her mouth. "I don't believe you. You—are—incredible!"

Again, his laughter filled the room, as he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry baby. Sometimes, you just make it so easy. Why don't I get room service to send something-"

"NO!" She pushed him away and pulled the sheet back up, "You, slip on some pants and go downstairs to get some coffee. While you are gone ' _I_ ' will get dressed and _we_ will go out for a real dinner."

Matt had reclaimed his sorrowful expression, "Come on, hon; let's just get dressed and go."

The obstinate redhead pulled herself up to her knees, still clinging tightly to the sheet. She tossed her head back, forcing the loose hair away from her face. "No deal. I know what happens when I…hypnotize…you. I will _not_ get out of this bed as long as you are standing there."

"Kitty... Sweetheart, come on. I'll behave." Matt assumed his _'awe shucks'_ façade, in both speech and looks.

"Really!" Kitty cocked her jaw to one side, and eyed him with mock contempt. "You call this behaving?" Before he could react, she ripped away the blanket he had been hiding beneath. They both stared down at his body, or at least the part of his body that seemed to be the main subject of this problem.

Matt offered a chagrined look shaded in red. "Oh. That." His blue eyes were filled with such sincerity "Does it mean anything that you're the one who did this to me?"

It _did_ mean something…and she was about to lean over to kiss him, when her stomach rumbled again. Before she could speak, Matt threw back the blanket and grabbed his pants from the back of the clothes rack. "I'm going!" She couldn't hang on to her irritated expression, as she watched her husband hop around the room in an attempt to hurry up his dressing. Finally, all the pieces were in place and he cast a glance down his giant girth and back up, to make sure he was ready. "Can I kiss you good-bye?"

Kitty brought a manicured finger up to her cheek, tapping a specific spot. Like a chastised little boy, Matt placed a chaste kiss where she directed and with a defeated sigh, he shoved his hat into place and left the room. Just to be safe, Kitty waited until she heard the distinct sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall before allowing the sheet to completely fall from her grasp.

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2 - I Did See It

**Death Train - Flame Series #8**

 **Chapter 2**

 **I Did See It**

Kitty was coming out of the bathroom when she heard mumblings coming from the adjoining room. A smile tugged at her lips, as she wondered what kind of sounds had come from _this_ room over the last twenty-four hours. The reflection in the mirror clearly displayed a hint of embarrassment, despite her years of marriage to this man. Matt was, without a doubt, the most passionate of lovers, bringing out the same passion in his partner.

A violent change in the mumblings next door caused Kitty's eyes to focus suddenly on her reflection in the mirror. There was a male voice cursing and a woman…crying? Certain words surfaced, but not enough to form an entire sentence. Words like, _divorce_... _money_... _tramp_. Kitty ran to the connecting door. She fumbled with the key in the lock, pulling it open only to be confronted with the matching door available only to the other room. At least she could hear the words now.

"You'll never see a dime of my money! I'll have that little tramp thrown in jail." The unseen woman screamed words at the man between tears of rage. "My daddy-"

Kitty heard the sound of a slap and knew that it had been used to stop the woman's threat.

"He's not a problem anymore, is he!" The male voice was deep, not like Matt, but still a deeply masculine tone. Oddly enough, Kitty heard more confidence in the man's words than anger, as though the woman's trump card had been played once too often.

The ingenious red head looked around for something to knock the key out of the opposing door. She grabbed one of the hangers from the tiny clothes rack and dropped to her knees. After bending the curve of the hanger, Kitty poked the wire into the lock, forcing the key to fall to the floor.

The tiny misshapen hole didn't allow much of a view, but the marshal's wife was able to see parts of the couple. The yelling on both sides had stopped. In its place was just a heavy gasping, mingled with a male's grunting noise. In the space of a moment, the sounds and sights in the room became all too clear in Kitty's mind: The man was choking the woman! He was killing her!

" **STOP!** " At almost the same instant, Kitty's hand flew to her mouth, but the word was gone. She saw the blonde woman go limp in the man's arms. She saw the shock, mixed with anger in the man's eyes, that were now directed toward her hiding place. Instantly, Kitty rose from the secret spot and slammed the door. Cold, numb fingers fumbled with the key, struggling to turn the tumblers into a locked position. Finally, Kitty stared at the locked door, blue eyes wide as she backed away from the wooden barrier.

Matt…This word did not escape her lips, but was the first thought in her head. Kitty forced herself to calm down, to do what needed to be done. Looking down, she realized that clothing would be first on her agenda. Matt's robe was still laying on top the luggage rack. It only took a quick glance—between her frilly chiffon gown, to his thick heavy cotton robe—to decide which was the better choice.

Quickly pulling the oversized garment around her, Kitty bundled up the extra material and held it to her chest. Shoes. Damn, where were her shoes?

One was laying in plain sight by the bed, but where had the other gotten off to? Kitty knelt down by the bed and fished around underneath until she found the hiding mate. Slipping into them, she tightened her hold on the excess robe and ran for the door.

The frightened woman's eyes scanned the hall from one end to the other, finding no one. Thinking that she couldn't let this killer get away, the only thing Kitty could think to do was to beat on his door. Pounding her small fists on the heavy wooden barrier didn't create much of a disturbance, but the shouting that accompanied it did.

"Open the door! I saw what you did – open this door!" Both her tone and words carried more courage than her shaking knees could back up.

Although the door she stood in front of remained shut, other doors began to open. Eventually, the door she had pounded on opened and Kitty found herself face-to-face with the man she'd watched choke the blonde woman to death

"Madam, what in the world are you doing?" The man's tone was gentle yet curious, as though he were just as confused as the crowd beginning to gather. Twice he swiped at his handlebar mustache, the only clue to his nervousness. Unfortunately, no one in the gathering crowd was familiar enough with him to recognize that.

"I saw you choke her!" Despite her rather bizarre appearance, Kitty straightened her slender body into a more rigid stance. "Where is she!?"

The accused stepped closer to the redhead. He brushed a hand through his salt and pepper hair. Probably another sign of his unease, as it already lay in perfect waves. Crisp, hazel eyes, with tiny flecks of gold, seemed to challenge her. "Where is _whom_?"

Kitty refused to back down from his attempt to intimidate. She knew what she had seen. "Your wife. I saw you kill her!"

The man looked as if he were about to reply, but then just as suddenly, his attention was drawn elsewhere. "I'm glad you're here. We seem to have a problem."

These words were obviously not meant for Kitty. She clutched the robe tighter and turned to see who was behind her. The fiery redhead's courage dipped a bit when she came face to face with the hotel detective. Although, he had not seen her face at their earlier encounter, Pringle did recognize the voice. He acknowledged her with a tip of his Stetson and a nod, "Mrs. Dillon."

Pringle's arrival threw her off kilter for only a moment. When Kitty turned, once again confronting the killer, all of her conviction returned. Locking her eyes with the killer before her, she spoke to the man behind her. "Mr. Pringle, I saw this man kill his wife. Right here, in this room."

Pringle stepped forward, placing himself between the accused and accuser. "Mr. Helton, is what this lady said true?"

Arthur Helton released an annoyed if not irritated laugh. "Mr. Pringle, I assure you, I did not kill my wife or any other woman…here, or anywhere else."

"Just look around. Her body has to be in there somewhere." Kitty peered around the detective.

Pringle glanced around the room before bringing his focus back to the opposing pair. "Maybe I should look around just to be-"

"Arthur?' The attractive blonde squeezed through the gathering of people outside the Helton room. "Sweetheart, are you all right?" She walked past Kitty, then Pringle and into the arms of her husband.

"I'm fine dear." He wrapped his arm lovingly around the slender woman. "I'm afraid this lady…she seems to think I killed you."

Now it was Kitty's turn to stare, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. This was the same woman she saw. At least the bits she could identify were the same. But…

"Kitty?" _That_ was a voice she recognized. It was less than a second before his hand was slipping around her waist. "What's going on here?"

Pringle stepped into the hall and began to disperse the curious onlookers. He returned to the room confronting four very confused faces. "Marshal, your wife…she thought she saw something and…well, I think it was just a mistake."

Kitty was struggling with her memory trying to make sense of what she had seen earlier compared to what was in front of her at this moment. Despite the confusion, she refused to let go of Helton's gaze. He was lying. That much she knew to be real. Kitty didn't put up any objection when she felt Matt's hand gently pulling her back in an attempt to ease her from the room.

When they stepped into the hall, they heard Pringle apologize to the Helton's before he closed the door. "You can take her back to your room, Marshal."

Matt nodded and guided his wife back to their suite. All of her confidence and conviction seemed to abandon her as she settled on the side of the bed. "Matt, I know what I saw."

He knelt down in front of her, lifting her head to face him and tucked the hair behind her ear. "Sweetheart, what exactly did you see?"

"I was getting ready and I heard sounds—mumbling at first and then it got louder. I could tell they were fighting. I opened that door…" Kitty pointed to the connecting doors "I couldn't get the other one open, but by then I could hear them better. They were fighting …um...over money...I heard divorce...I think he has another woman."

She stopped for a moment as if to retrace her steps. "Oh! That's when I knocked the key out of the other door and peeked through the keyhole. I saw that… man choke…that woman." Kitty stopped, tiny wrinkles attaching themselves to her forehead along with an ambivalent frown. "But it can't be that woman."

Kitty looked into Matt's eyes, soaking up the love and support he always held for her. "Do you believe me?"

Matt could see the self-doubt that was consuming her; he reached out, pulling her into his arms."Honey if you say you saw a murder then I believe you. Obviously, it wasn't his wife's murder."

Kitty sniffled as she wiped her eyes with the soft, fluffy sleeve of his robe. "I guess that fight, I mean those words, could have been said to a mistress." She produced a scowl as she contemplated that theory "Having your mistress in your hotel room with your wife downstairs – I don't know Matt. That's pretty risky and I've seen a lot of cheating husbands."

"True." He too seemed to be caught up in theorizing daydreams. "A man would get a separate room for his mistress; he wouldn't have her in the suite he was sharing with his wife." That thought slipped out a little too casually causing him to glance quickly at his wife. Sure enough the spark had returned to those sapphire eyes. "I meant-"

Kitty leaned forward, kissing him into silence. "I know what you meant. I also know you're not that kind of husband. She gathered up the robe, trying to pull it closer around her. "That would mean two women who look alike and a plot to substitute one woman…" She let it rest with a sigh. "Now, it's starting to sound far-fetched. Maybe I did imagine it. It just seemed so real."

Matt pulled himself up from his kneeling position and took a seat beside her. With his thumb and forefinger, he tugged lightly on the robe. "Nice outfit." He was prepared for the sideways glance thrown at him. "Maybe, you were so hungry you were delirious."

"That could be, I think you're trying to starve me to death."

"Still hungry?"

"Yeah, but now I don't feel like going out."

Matt stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Yes you do. You go in there and put on one of those fancy dresses and comb your hair. I'm taking the prettiest girl in Kansas to dinner." He called after her just before she disappeared into the bathroom. "Hey, could you leave your hair-"

"Down" She finished for him as she shut the door. "I know."

Kitty smiled as she leaned against the door. Once the latch softly clicked into place she stepped forward to survey her reflection in the mirror. During her reign as owner of the Long Branch, a finely coiffed hair-do was an integral part of the image. Matt was very complimentary and appreciated the time it took to style and maintain it. Still, he had mentioned that he preferred those loose curls that tumbled down her back. Each time, the beautiful proprietor would explain to him that it simply looked more professional to wear it up.

Once Cooper was born and she gave up all but 25% of the bar, Matt's requests became more frequent attached to a lot more grumbling. Kitty decided, as a husband he really didn't ask for much and to be honest, she was flattered that after more than ten years together this man still noticed how she wore her hair. Most of the woman she knew complained their husbands wouldn't notice if they were suddenly bald. "Down it is." Kitty muttered as she pulled the brush through the coppery red tresses.

Matt wandered over to the window which looked out over the courtyard. He knew Kitty too well. She wasn't the type of woman that frightened easily or jumped to conclusions. If she saw that man kill a woman than that's what happened. Of course, this wasn't Dodge City and Kansas City had a sheriff. It was that man's job to solve murders here, which meant it wasn't the marshal's responsibility. However, the only witness to this particular crime was Kitty Dillon and that made it Matt's concern.

The marshal knew his wife was exhausted, but there had been a pipe burst in the hotel kitchen and room service was temporarily suspended. Normally, Matt would have gone out to get something for her, but not tonight. There was no way he was going to leave Kitty alone with that killer right next door.

He was too preoccupied to hear her exit the bathroom, or even call his name. It wasn't until she slipped her hand over his that Matt returned to the present. "You look beautiful, as usual." With a charming smile, he offered Kitty his arm and escorted her out of the room.

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3 - Fooled Again

**Death Train - Flame Series #8**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Fooled Again**

Kitty began to relax during dinner. Finally getting to eat was a treat in itself. The restaurant that Matt chose was very nice. One of Matt's most endearing qualities as a husband was the way he always jumped at the opportunity to brag on his wife. Tonight was no exception. Granted, the restaurant was nice and the food good, but he was quick to point out that it didn't even compare to the Prairie Rose.

She leaned back in her chair, basking in his praise. With a faint bow of her head, she responded. "Thank you, kind sir. But I think you might be a little prejudice."

"No," Matt quickly assumed a heartsick façade. "I just know quality when I see it." He shifted his attention to the waitress and ordered a

snifter of Napoleon for his lady.

Kitty leaned forward, making her words more private. "Why, Mr. Dillon, are you planning on getting me drunk and having your way with me?"

"How many ways are left that we haven't tried, Mrs. Dillon?" His brows arched slightly when he felt the light sensation of Kitty's foot rubbing up his leg. The tease was quickly recalled when the waitress reappeared with the brandy.

They enjoyed the brandy and a bit more conversation, before Matt finally suggested a walk around town. It was such a cool night and a full moon to boot, that it seemed too wonderful to waste.

Eventually, they walked up to the front counter Kitty stepped out onto the attached terrace, while Matt took care of the bill.

In the corner of the patio, partially hidden by the decorative greenery, was the woman—the same blonde woman that Kitty thought she had watched being murdered today. The enjoyable fuzzy effects of the brandy immediately vanished. When the man leaned forward, Kitty was able to get a good look at his profile.

That was **not** Arthur Helton. As a matter of fact, it wasn't a man at all; it was just a boy. Taking a longer look, Kitty realized she had seen the young boy before. He was a bellhop at the hotel. The mystery woman was all over that kid, literally seducing him. Why in the world would a woman like _that_ be enticing a pimply faced teenage boy?

This wasn't right. Kitty hurried back into the restaurant. "Matt. Honey, we need to talk." Kitty seemed agitated as her attention vacillated between her husband and something outside. "Quick. Out here."

The urgency in his wife's voice caused Matt to rush through the transaction. He smiled at the cashier, but hurriedly refused the change, telling her to pass it on to the waitress. With a stunned expression and a voice so weak it barely squeaked out the 'wow, _thank you'_ , the young brunette took the twenty dollar bill and bits of coin and stuffed them into the cup marked, "Mazie".

Matt quickly grabbed his wife's arm and ushered her out the door. "What happened? Did that Helton man accost you?"

"No, it wasn't _him_ it was _her_. Come with me." Kitty led Matt by the hand, back onto the patio. Her hand went out to point to the couple behind the greenery; then with a gasp, she suddenly she pulled it back to cover her mouth. Those bright blue eyes were large with/full of shock and confusion.

Without a word, still in a daze, she pointed to the corner. Matt followed her direction and immediately identified the supposedly dead woman having dinner with her husband, Arthur Helton. This wasn't enough to have caused Kitty's current state of alarm.

Matt pulled his attention from the suspicious couple, back to his wife. "Kitty, I don't understand. It's the couple from the room but…" He placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "What is it?"

Kitty was plagued with doubt. "But Matt… she was with a _young_ man—a boy—from the hotel. She was…seducing…him. Now _he's_ gone and her husband is here."

The big man took another look at the couple. "Are you sure—about the boy I mean? Maybe they just ran into him..."

He could tell by the way her body tensed, that he had said the wrong thing.

"I've been a woman a long time. I think I know when a woman is _seducing_ someone; especially a 'skilled' woman with a teenaged boy."

Matt's hands relaxed slightly, "Okay, honey; I'm sorry. You didn't say she was 'flirting' with him."

"Flirting! I said, _**seducing**_! She was ready to pounce on him, right there in the restaurant." Kitty pulled away, searching the terrace again. "Where's the boy? If Helton caught them, he sure is taking it well. Look at them, they're _smiling_. If you caught me making love to another man, I don't think you would be smiling like that."

For just a second, Matt was caught up in Kitty's imaginary suggestion. No, he silently agreed, he wouldn't be laughing and there would be a body laying somewhere in the close vicinity. He glanced around the couples' table, spying no dead or unconscious teenage body. "Could the boy have slipped away when he saw the husband coming?"

"I suppose; but, she sure is a cool one. That still doesn't answer _why_ she's after a boy."

Matt slipped his arm around his wife's waist and headed back inside the hotel. "I'm beginning to think they are both crazy and we should distance ourselves from them." When they reached the lobby, Kitty, once again, spotted something that piqued her attention.

"Look," She pointed to the room adjacent to the front desk. The door had been left open and Kitty watched one of the bellhops loading trunks onto a dolly. "Matt! That's how they did it! They put the body in a trunk!"

"Honey…" He had no way of knowing that she was going to take off running toward the back room. Even with legs a good foot longer than hers, he could barely catch up to the excited redhead.

Kitty grabbed the uniformed lad and twirled him around. "Whose luggage is this?"

"The Helton's. Why?"

"Where's the other boy that works here? The one with the bad skin?"

The skinny little towheaded boy offered a grin. "That would be Roth. He quit today. I can help you as much as he did lady."

"I need to see what's in that big trunk."

"Kitty, you can't do that." Matt stepped forward, his size intimidating the boy before he even spoke to him. "That's illegal."

"That woman's body is in there. It has to be!"

"Excuse me, can I be of help?"

Kitty closed her eyes, dreading what was about to unfold. Even though she had only heard the voice a few times, she recognized it to be Arthur Helton's. She looked up at her husband and they turned to face the man together.

"Mrs. Dillon, I don't know what you have against me but I assure you, I do not go around killing women."

"How did you know my name?" Kitty refused to let this man intimidate her.

The man slicked the points of his mustache and assumed a rather impatient look. "When someone accuses you of such an atrocity, you feel the need to identify them." He had barely taken a step into the room when another voice was heard.

"Can I ask what is going on here?" Pringle hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets, a habit similar to Matt's.

"I believe this lady thinks there is a body in my trunk." Helton folded his arms across his chest, allowing his arrogance to dominate the room.

"Mrs. Dillon?" The detective waited, giving her time to deny, or confirm, Helton's accusation.

Kitty refused to back down from this conceited murderer. Even if she couldn't prove it now, she knew more than ever, that he was a killer. "Yes, I think…the woman he strangled, is in that trunk!"

Helton tossed his head in a haughty manner. He retrieved the key from his vest pocket and tossed it to the bellhop. "Open it up, son."

Tension dominated the room as the nervous young man fiddled with the lock. Finally, he pulled the metal slide back and flipped open the lid of the expensive walnut trunk. Clothes! Nothing but expensive women's garments. The men maintained silence; it was Kitty that couldn't contain a gasp. All male eyes turned, fixing themselves on the humiliated redhead.

Matt recognized his wife's anger, mixed with embarrassment. He was not surprised when her slender body went rigid and she turned her attention on Arthur Helton. Her words were as cold as her expression. "Mr. Helton, I am sorry for any inconvenience." With the apology made, Kitty twirled around and headed for her room.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Matt closed the door and tossed his hat on the peg by the coat rack. He could hear Kitty slamming things around in the bathroom. So far, he didn't hear anything being brok…scratch that. It sounded like a perfume bottle, but he couldn't be sure. He relieved himself of his jacket. As he laid his gun belt on the fold down shelf under the clothes rack, it occurred to him that he might want to hide it.

Words bounced off the closed bathroom door that caused Matt's brows to spring up over his bright blue eyes. Kitty had every right to this outburst. It was a murder. It wasn't a murder. He killed his wife. His wife was alive. This whole thing was becoming a fiasco. Despite his years as a lawman, whatever this was wouldn't slow down long enough for him to get a handle on it.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took him a moment to realize the clatter and ranting had quieted down. Matt figured his wife had finally run out of steam. He walked across the room and very softly, very cautiously rapped on the bathroom door.

For what seemed like an eternity but was more likely only a few seconds, the room remained silent. Matt stood patiently, until the gentle click of the latch sounded and the door inched open. The sight that greeted him, tugged at his heart. With her head hung down, Kitty reached out, sliding into Matt's arms.

"It's going to be okay, honey. Somehow, we've managed to step right into the middle of a bunch of crazy people. We're going home tomorrow and never coming back to Kansas City again."

"Everyone thinks _I'm_ the crazy one!" There was still a trace of anger mingled with the frustration and humiliation.

Matt tipped her chin upward, wiping the tears from her eyes and replacing them with kisses. "You are _not_ crazy. Well…" he paused long enough to elicit a smile; a small one, but still a smile. He walked her over to the bed and sat them both down. "You've had a hard day."

"I just want to go home." Kitty flopped back on the bed with a weary sigh.

Before the Marshal could lie down beside his wife, someone knocked on the door. Matt gave her a quick kiss and pulled himself to his feet. Kitty sat up, but maintained her seat on the edge of the bed. Once again, she recognized the voice. At least this time, it wasn't Arthur Helton.

Matt stood aside as he invited Mr. Pringle into the room. "What can we do for you?"

The burly man's sympathetic eyes fell on the forlorn redhead. "Mrs. Dillon, for what it's worth, I believe you."


	4. Chapter 4 - Tale Of Two Women

**Death Train - Flame Series #8**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Tale of Two Women**

Kitty looked up at the balding man with complete gratitude. If Matt had not been in the room, she knew she would have kissed this beautiful brawny man. Instead, in a tear-filled voice, she uttered two words. "Thank you."

"Won't you have a seat Mr. Pringle?" Matt pulled the chair from the window for Pringle and once again, took his place beside his wife.

Pringle took off his Stetson and dropped it onto his lap. Even though he wasn't more than fifty, he had that weariness of a man a couple of decades older. "I don't have any more proof than you do, but I know you're right. What made you want to search the luggage?"

"I saw his wife, or—mistress or…whoever she is—at a restaurant today, seducing one of the young bellhops from this hotel."

Pringle appeared genuinely perplexed. "I thought the boy in question was Roth Pintal?"

Kitty confirmed the name as much as possible. "The other boy just said Roth. He didn't give a last name. The one in the restaurant was skinny, with a bad complexion."

Pringle nodded. "That would be Roth. He's worked here about six months. Don't take the word 'worked' too literal where he's concerned. Roth is always trying to make a fast buck. So far, he's not very good at it and seems to find himself in trouble frequently. We haven't been able to find him. His uncle said he didn't come home last night."

"Then you think he's maybe somehow involved with the Heltons?" Matt knew there had to be a link somewhere.

Pringle shook his head indicating a bit of skepticism. "Why would they pick that stupid kid? Did I mention Roth likes to brag a lot? Not exactly the type you would expect Arthur Helton to hook up with." His eyes fell to his lap, as he fiddled with the brim of his hat. "The part about the woman seducing him…maybe it just looked…"

"I watched them! Believe me, that woman had that boy under her control. Maybe Arthur Helton murdered his wife, but I'd bet money **she's** the brains behind it all." Kitty let her gaze travel between the two men. Both one giant step behind when it came to suspecting a woman of diabolical deeds. _Just let a pretty face come along_ , she thought.

Ignoring the male density in the room, Kitty went on to offer her tale from the restaurant. She described the blonde woman's actions with the boy in detail, which brought a slight blush to the older man's face. His embarrassment wasn't from the story, but from the beautiful lady telling the story. It hadn't taken the burly house detective long to be impressed with the Kansas redhead.

He could still see her cocooned in a robe three sizes too big, shaking her finger in Arthur Helton's face. The fire in her eyes only a shadow to the red curls floating down her back and around her face. The lady's fiery spirit was fully complemented by her beauty.

Matt watched his wife grow more and more agitated as she retold the story. Without a word, he laid a quiet hand on his lady's arm. The touch was enough to get her attention. Kitty finished her tale with a deep breath. "I have learned to trust my wife's instincts, Mr. Pringle, especially where other women are concerned."

Pringle chuckled softly, "Mr. Dillon, I would have to agree with you. Did you say earlier that you were a U.S. Marshal—in Dodge?"

"Well, technically yes. I am—I mean; I was retiring as a U.S. Marshal at the end of this year." As usual, his eyes drifted toward Kitty. "The young man taking my place found out his wife is having twins and there are a lot of complications, so… I agreed to extend my time. I came here to sign those papers and we decided to spend a couple of extra days."

"You're retiring. Are you newlyweds?" His thoughts returned to their first meeting.

Now it was Kitty's turn to produce a pink tinge around the edges, but she let Matt answer the question. "Actually, we celebrated our tenth anniversary just recently."

"Really. Children?"

"Three. Two girls and a boy."

Pringle smiled and Kitty noticed how much younger he looked when he relaxed. "Do you have a family, Mr. Pringle?"

"A wife, ma'am." He dug into his vest pocket and produced a pocket watch. With a click of the tab, it popped open, revealing something under the cover. "My Annabelle," he said simply, as he handed it to Kitty. In the small circular frame was a picture of an attractive, full figured lady.

"She's lovely. How long have you been married?" Kitty held the picture out for Matt to see and he offered a silent compliment with a smile.

"We've been married twenty-nine years." He took the watch back and returned it to its place. "Not blessed with children though."

Matt could sense that the man had more to tell, but was unsure how to begin. "Why is it that you believe my wife?"

"First, I need to tell you, that Arthur Helton was on his way to Chicago. He's supposedly a big cattle buyer. Truth is, he is just a male gold digger, who inherited a ranch—among other things—from his father-in-law."

"How do you know this?" Matt felt his wife's arm tighten around his waist when he spoke.

"Two years ago, Arthur Helton and his wife came here on business. I don't know what his 'business' was at that time, only that he failed at it. Anyway, they got into a fight and he smacked her pretty good: Swollen cheek, black eye, the whole nine yards. I tried to get her to press charges, but she was too scared. She and I talked for awhile, she told me his business went bankrupt and that was why he was angry." Pringle shook his head with a defeated sigh. "She just kept making excuses for him."

One would think that Matt might be a little understanding in that area, but it was just the opposite. He had endured so much anguish after striking Kitty accidently, that now, he felt nothing but rage toward this man that had purposely hit a woman. Not just any woman, but the one he had taken an oath to love, honor and] protect. "I hear what you are saying, that you wouldn't be surprised if he killed his wife, but we all saw her."

"Did we? When I saw her two years ago, she was so bruised and swollen, I couldn't possibly identify her as the same woman we saw today. [Not only that, looks aside, that fearful, apologetic, hopeless woman of two years ago could not possibly be the confident, seductive outspoken one we've all been witness to recently." Pringle saw the bewildered looks staring back at him. "I know that what I am suggesting might seem unbelievable. " He paused briefly. "I was on the force in New York for twenty years before coming here. One thing I've learned after being a lawman for that long—as I'm sure you have, too, Marshal—improbable doesn't mean impossible."

Pringle readjusted his large girth in the chair. "I have one more thing to tell you. The Heltons have changed their travel plans. Instead of going on to Chicago, they have decided to spend a few days in Dodge."

The two men exchanged a look, then turned their attention to Kitty. "You think they are coming to Dodge for me?" Refusing to shrink back in the eyes of possible danger, in typical Kitty fashion, she was going to meet the threat head on. "Well, I'm not as easy to get rid of as one might think!"

Pringle rose to his feet, "No ma'am, I'll just bet you aren't. Still, you be careful." He nodded to the lady, as he let Matt guide him to the door. "I wish there was more I could do to help." His eyes wandered past Matt, back to Kitty. "Your wife is a headstrong woman."

Matt glanced at his little redhead "In Dodge, we just call it 'stubborn', but either way describes her."

Pringle brought his attention back to the marshal. "I'm guessing she's in pretty good hands"

Matt turned back to the detective, his tone becoming more serious. "I do my best to take care of her."

Pringle slipped on his hat. "I'm sure you do. If there's anything I can do, just wire me here at the hotel."


	5. Chapter 5 - The Train Ride

**Death Train - Flame Series #8**

 **Chapter 5**

 **The Train Ride**

The Dillon's had opted to take a late train back to Dodge. The extra time allowed them one more evening touring the city. Matt had made reservations at the Majestic, Kansas City's finest restaurant. Kitty was pleased by the lavish dinner, but thrilled when her gallant husband surprised her with a horse drawn carriage ride after the meal.

They arrived at the train station around 10:00 p.m., in plenty of time to make the 10:30 departure. Matt sought out and finally located a porter to load their bags on board. He was pointing out the luggage to the young man when Kitty tugged on his arm. Matt glanced at his wife and then followed her nod toward the crowd of people across the platform. Arthur Helton was also directing a porter to pick up his luggage.

"Let's get on board before we have to play nice with them." Matt slipped his arm around his wife's waist and steered her onto the train. Instead of a seat, Kitty found herself being hustled into a private sleeping car. She stepped into the tiny room. Luxurious would have been an exaggeration, but it was very nice, very comfortable.

"What's this? I thought we had seats up near-"

"We did." Matt smiled and slipped the porter a dollar. He pushed his wife into the room and quickly closed the door behind them. "But I didn't want to share you with a room full of snoring people." Matt pulled her into his arms, letting his lips gently close over hers.

Her arms twisted behind his neck pulling him closer. "You are just full of surprises, Marshal Dillon." She nibbled delicately on his earlobe causing him to moan softly. His hands slid down her back, coming to rest on the rounded curve of her bottom. Matt pulled her closer, pressing his body against hers.

She heard him release a ragged breath as he loosened his hold on her. "This…is going to be a fun trip."

That low sensual laugh that drove him wild bubbled up from her throat. "Isn't that why you booked this sleeping car?"

Matt looked very much like the boy caught in the proverbial cookie jar. "Yeah, but I thought we would at least wait until we pulled away from the station."

Kitty stepped forward, pressing him against the wall. She reached up on her toes and began to cover his face with small, sensual kisses. "Well, Marshal. Do you want to wait?"

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

The swaying of the train had only enhanced their lovemaking, leaving them both relaxed and completely satisfied. "It's a little cramped," the big man said, as he tried to twist his gigantic body around hers. "But it certainly was worth it."

Her sensual laugh was lost, replaced by a carefree giggle. "I'm hungry."

Matt pulled back enough to see her face. "You're hungry?"

She responded with an innocent smile and a nod.

"After that incredible lovemaking we just…all you can say is, you're hungry?"

"First, you tried to starve me at the hotel. Now this. No matter what you say, Matt Dillon, you really can't live on love alone."

"Fine. Let's get dressed and see if they can fix anything for you in the dining car..." Before Matt could finish speaking, or move, Kitty had already climbed over him, scrambling for her clothes. "So much for cuddling," he mumbled.

Even though Kitty started first, Matt was dressed long before his wife was ready to go. The clothes, the hair, touch up the make-up. Not that he was experiencing an epiphany, but just a confirmation, that being a woman was _way_ too much trouble.

Finally, Kitty considered herself presentable and they headed for the dining car. They had almost made it when she realized she had forgotten her reticule.

"I'll just run back."

Matt wasn't comfortable letting her out of his sight with the Heltons skulking about on the train. "Why do you need it?"

"Matt. I just do. It will only take me a second."

"No, I'll come with you."

"For heaven's sake! It's only the next car. Just go get a table for us."

Matt stared through the rear window of the Pullman car and through the glass of the adjoining dining car. It took him a few moments to realize he was staring at Arthur Helton. When he straightened up for a closer look, it was clear that the mystery wife was right beside him. Matt felt a little more at ease knowing where they were. "Okay," he relented, "but hurry up." Kitty gave him a peck on the cheek and hurried back toward the compartment.

Matt watched her for a moment, then opened the door and stepped between the two cars. This definitely was better than traveling by stagecoach. For one thing, his wife couldn't get lost. As soon as Matt entered the dining car, he could feel Benita Helton's eyes burn through him.

The marshal chose a seat clear on the other side of the car. Apparently, that wasn't far enough away. When Matt motioned for the young man tending bar to come to his table, Benita Helton closely shadowed the boy.

Matt smiled at the young man. "Is the kitchen still open?"

"I can ask the cook to make some sandwiches."

Matt tried to ignore the woman behind the waiter, but she was not one to be put off. "Mind if I sit? Oh, thank you." Before he could respond, she was down.

Meanwhile, the confused boy stood waiting for Matt to speak. "Sir?"

"Uh, yeah. Sandwiches will be fine."

"We only have roast-"

"Whatever you have son. Oh and a glass of white wine and a beer, please." The boy nodded and backed away as Matt finally acknowledged the interloper, "Mrs. Helton, it's really late to be socializing. I see your husband back there is probably looking for you."

Benita Helton cast a quick glance to the man in the corner, then returned a hungry look at the man seated across from her. "When he gets involved in a book, there is simply no talking to him."

 **KITTYKITTYKITTY**

Kitty reached their compartment and quickly grabbed her reticule. Why did she need it? She couldn't explain why to Matt because she really didn't know why. The fact was, a lady always needed her reticule. That thought was suddenly dismissed when the image of her daughter came to light. Calleigh moaned and complained about having to _lug around_ a reticule. The girl made it sound like a fifty-pound duffle bag. Hers weighed nothing, because it was always empty. Calleigh refused to fill it with all the girly necessities. Make-up was a special night only thing and if she combed her hair in the morning, why should she be obligated to address it repeatedly during the day. If it hadn't been for the fact that she needed someplace to carry her little derringer, the stubborn young woman never would have adopted the habit.

The thought of her rebellious daughter evoked a smile. Kitty was so deep in thought when she opened the door to step out on the platform; she failed to see the man hiding in the dark. Before she could reach the door to the dining room, five strong fingers closed around her wrist, jerking her toward the edge of the steel landing. Kitty felt her black leather pump tumble free as she struggled for a foothold. Another strong hand closed over her mouth, muffling any cries for help.

 **MATTMATTMATT**

Matt stared at the woman that had boldly forced her way into his presence. Benita Helton truly was a gorgeous woman. Tall, statuesque with long blonde hair that lay in golden waves. Pale amber eyes—reminiscent of a field of summer wheat—only served to compliment her full lips, red like ripe cherries. This woman knew how to use those lips and eyes without speaking, to make subtle promises.

"I hate night traveling. It's so…boring, don't you think?" Even her tone was seductive.

Matt glanced at the man with his nose stuck in a book. Surely, he could see what his wife was doing. The room was so quiet it was possible he could ever hear her. "I don't travel that much to know." He responded curtly.

"I just get so lonesome." She tilted her head to one side, letting her gaze rake over his body. "You know what I mean?"

The cool blue eyes that Kitty adored had turned cold, even his tone had an icy edge. "Maybe you should get a puppy."

 **KITTYKITTYKITTY**

Kitty could feel herself losing the battle as the assailant managed to propel more of her body over the side. Ironically, the only thing keeping her from crashing to the tracks below was the choking forearm around her throat. The warm night air rushed past, whipping the silky material of her dress against the steel surface.

She reached back, clawing at the faceless form. Her nails raked down a patch of skin and she could feel something warm on her fingers. Blood. Lots of it, she must have gotten him pretty good. The injury only served to fuel **the** rage, as the aggressor's arm pulled tighter. Now, instead of his face, Kitty clawed at the constricting arm, fighting for air.

 **MATTMATTMATT**

"You know, I am so sorry about that little mix-up at the hotel. I can't believe your wife thought Arthur had murdered me." A throaty laugh erupted, that only confirmed how practiced she was at the game of seduction.

"Listen, _Mrs_. Helton I don't really have anything to say on this subject. _My_ wife should be here any minute, so, you should go be with your husband."

"Bah-nee-taa." She pronounced each syllable, letting her tongue slide across those cherry lips. "There's no reason we can't be friends." Long, slender fingers reached across the table and weaved themselves into his.

 **KITTYKITTYKITTY**

Even though Matt was only feet away, the rushing wind and heavy door to the dining car prevented him from hearing any of the chaos outside. Not that Kitty stood a chance of uttering a sound. The attacker began to kick at her legs, pushing her father down the side. Kitty could hear the sound of the steel wheels screaming along the tracks. If the arm were to release her now, she would fall prey to the iron rails.

It wouldn't matter if she could breathe or not if her body dropped under the speeding train. Kitty's hands flailed about, searching for the railing. Finally, one hand latched onto a steel post. With all of her strength, she changed course in the struggle and with both hands, pulled her body toward the post. The sudden shift in weight threw off her attacker. Suddenly, it was her opponent that had to make a choice. In order to gain footing, the arm around her throat was released, as he too grappled for a piece of the railing.

 **MATTMATTMATT**

Matt jerked his hand free as if it were on fire. "There's a very good reason we can't be friends. I don't happen to like you or your husband." The marshal stood, pulling himself into his most intimidating stance. "What I _do_ like is my wife and you will excuse me while I go to see what's keeping her. In the meantime, go back to your own table!"

 **KITTYKITTYKITTY**

Kitty took this opportunity to kick at the assailant with both feet while hanging on to the rail for dear life. A garbled cry surfaced and she knew she had hurt him. The would-be killer had lost the rail with one hand and now flailed about valiantly to secure the other. The spirited redhead had other plans. She wrapped both arms around the iron bar hugging it to her chest and gave the man one violent kick breaking his last hold on the railing. Kitty buried her face in her shoulder as she listened to the piercing screams of the man as he hit the ground and was chewed up by the steel wheels.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Matt stormed out of the dining car brimming with disgust. His outrage morphed into terror when he saw Kitty clinging to the side of the train. He screamed her name as he dropped to his knees.

"Kitty! Hang on, I've got you."

Strong arms came for her again, but this time, they came to rescue. Matt pulled Kitty up from the side of the platform, not stopping until she was safely in his arms. His heart was racing, pounding against hers as he pressed her against his chest. He stepped through the sliding door, back into the Pullman car. Matt's long legs shook with fear as he dropped down onto one of the seats.

"Baby, are you all right?" Matt's hands were everywhere. Brushing hair aside, turning her face from side-to-side to check for wounds. Running his hands over her shoulders, arms—everything he could touch to assure himself she was whole and unharmed. "Your foot!" The exclamation came when he saw the missing shoe and shredded stockings.

"Matt! Matt!" Kitty took his face in her trembling hands. "I'm okay." Seconds ticked by while they stared into each other's eyes. She had fought like a trooper and won, but the adrenaline was dissipating and the realization of how close death had come was overtaking her. Kitty collapsed into Matt's arms in tears.

Strength had returned to his legs and Matt rose with his love in his arms, swiftly returning to their compartment. He hit the switch to flip over the service sign, before settling with Kitty into the seat. Answers and explanations would come later, for now having her safely in his arms was enough. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she buried her face into his broad shoulder. A firm rap at the door startled her and she jumped in his arms.

"It's okay, honey. It's just the porter." Matt brushed his lips across her temple, before calling to the man outside the door. "Could you bring us a couple of whiskeys please?" A mature voice from the hall acknowledged his request.

"Do you feel like talking yet?" Kitty shook her head and snuggled in tighter. "All right, we can wait." The still-shaken marshal kissed the crown of his wife's head and rocked her gently back and forth.

 **SILAS**

Silas Wage had been a Pullman porter for nearly fifteen years. Some runs were busier than others; this one he judged was going to be a quiet one. Only three of the Pullman seats and two of the sleeping car's berths were occupied on this trip. There had been a fancy casket loaded on the baggage car, but Silas doubted _that_ customer would need much attending.

It was the two couples in the sleeping cars that held his interest. The old porter had watched them board. Both appeared to be about the same age, both attractive couples, but there was a difference: There seemed to be genuine warmth and affection between the one, but the other…the other couple was cold.

This was his second call tonight. The first call had not gone well. They were a sophisticated, well-to-do pair. He was a fastidiously dressed man with a handlebar mustache that he constantly preened. Both man and woman were rude, selfish and entitled. The woman was a gorgeous blonde, that became ugly the moment she opened her mouth. His first impression of them had been correct.

The years had not been good to Silas; his posture was no longer the rigid, proud stance of a younger colored man. Time and the world he lived in had beaten down his body, but not his spirit. However, the hateful blonde had taken a bite out of his good nature. She had berated him for not responding quickly enough when she flipped on the service sign. He had silently endured a ten-minute lecture on how important she was.

Now, he waited patiently for permission to enter the sleeping car of the other Kansas City couple.

"Your drinks, sir." Silas was taken aback for a moment when he saw the redhaired woman, cradled in the man's lap. When she boarded earlier, she had been impeccably groomed. So much so that nearly every person—male and female—did a doubletake as she passed by. Now, even though the husband brushed his fingers through the fiery strands, he was unable to repair the disheveled mess. Her dress was torn, stockings shredded and she seemed to be missing a shoe.

Without missing a beat, the porter placed the two glasses on the table. The pretty lady peeked out at him from the safety of her husband's arms, as if she were embarrassed to be caught crying. The huge man, on the other hand, didn't seem to care who saw him comforting his wife. He was oblivious to anything but her.

Silas had started to back out of the room when the redhead called to him in a voice so faint, he thought he had imagined it, but it was real. Matt heard it too and looked down at his wife. "Honey, he left the drinks."

Matt was clueless to her comment.

Kitty offered a shy smile to the porter before looking up at her husband. "Tip him!" She whispered."

"Oh! Oh." Matt shook his head indicating his thoughtlessness. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He dug into his pocket with his free hand to retrieve a dollar. As he handed it to the porter, anger suddenly seized him. The words took on a life of their own as he blurted them out. "Someone tried to kill my wife!"

It was a few moments before Silas was able to move or respond. "May I ask how, sir?"

"A man attacked her and then tried to push her off the platform outside the dining car."

Silas was impressed by the way this man refused, even while talking, to take his focus from his wife. The porter's first impression of this couple had been accurate as well. "Do you know who it was?"

The huge man's lips twisted with disgust, "I'm pretty sure I do, but I could use your help to confirm it?"

"Do you have a name or description?"

"The boys name is Roth Pintal. He's a skinny young kid. Black hair and bad complexion."

"I'll check around for you, sir." Silas nodded again, as he backed out of the room.

Once Silas had left, Matt reached over to secure one of the glasses. "Here honey. Drink some of this."

She let him coax her into sitting up and accepted the drink. Kitty polished off the whiskey with a slight grimace and handed the empty glass to her husband. "I guess dinner is out, huh?"

Matt had to chuckle at the myriad of emotions that he had just experienced. Terror. Panic. Relief and now, a touch of humor. "Kitten, you just tell me what you want and I'll go shoot it for you." He pulled her forward, needing a hug to confirm that she really was okay.

When she sat back up, Kitty's solemn expression revealed she was ready to talk. "I couldn't see his face, Matt. It was just a hand that suddenly came out of the darkness. Next thing, he had his arm around my throat and I couldn't breathe. When I managed to get my arms wrapped around the railing, I just kicked at him with everything I had…then…he fell."

Being a victor in the battle had its price. For Kitty, it would be the sound of her assailant's agonizing screams, as he was ground up beneath the merciless steel wheels. She took solace again, hiding her face in her husband's shoulder. "Matt, it was horrible."

"I know. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I should never have let you go back there alone."

Kitty pulled back again. "Don't go blaming yourself. Trust me. You keep a close enough eye on me." Her comment was both teasing and grateful. "He was working for the Heltons, wasn't he?"

"I think the porter will confirm that the missing boy is Roth Pintal."

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Arthur Helton let his book fall to his chest, focusing now on his wife. He knew that look and he was really glad he wasn't on the receiving end of it. That Dillon guy had turned Jillian Killeman down flat. Not something that happened very often; never, as long as Arthur had known her. There _would be_ reprisals for Jillian's being spurned—she would see to that.

Arthur took a long draw from his cigar as he watched the leggy blonde return to her seat across from him. She snapped her fingers at the young bartender and pointed to her glass for a refill. Arthur was just as impressed with her today as he had been a year ago, when he met her at an upscale _gentlemen's club_ in New Orleans.

The first time he saw Jillian, his initial reaction was shock. For a paralyzing moment, Arthur thought he had discovered his wife's secret life. Benita Helton and Jillian Killeman could pass for twins. Side-by-side, the differences were more obvious; but if you saw them in separate places at separate times…definitely could be twins.

Arthur was quick to secure Jillian's services for the evening. Miss Killeman was the top _hostess_ for the Mardi Gras Planner's Association. Despite the expensive fee, the mustached lothario booked her for the entire week—and it had been worth every cent.

When Arthur married Benita McCassey, it had been strictly for her money. Unfortunately, he soon found out, that the money belonged to her father, Conrad McCassey.

Born in Texas, the man had been successful in every opportunity the great state had to offer: Oil, cattle, mineral rights, more land than he could cover in a day's ride. Conrad had only one child, but he never really embraced the role of fatherhood. Benita's mother had died in childbirth and Conrad hired a slew of nannies to care for the girl. Once Benita was grown and had finished school, she was given an allowance and set free. If Arthur Helton had known this, he would have continued shopping for a rich bride.

She had appeared to be the perfect package. Benita could have been a gorgeous woman, but she didn't have the sophistication or sense of fashion to enhance her natural beauty. Although, the faces were similar, Benita's was plain, like a black and white sketch. Jillian, on the other hand, was vivid colors and perfected strokes—reminiscent of a fine work of art.

The poor Texas girl lacked confidence as well. That was something that Arthur preyed on, once he came to realize she was not going to be the money pot he had counted on. Instead of leaving her, he began to abuse her—both physically and emotionally.

It was Jillian that came up with the plan of switching places. Since Arthur had cut Benita off from the few friends she had, there was no one to miss her. The only problem was Conrad. Even though he rarely visited his only daughter, he would have instantly known an imposter. Jillian found a solution to that problem as well.

The resourceful young woman had learned from a respected doctor that she serviced regularly, all about air bubbles and how much damage they could do—if injected in the right places. Jillian also learned that Conrad McCassey had already survived one heart attack. Fortunately—or unfortunately, as the case may be—it was rather mild, with hardly any lasting effects.

Sadly, a year later, he was not as lucky. It was very sad. Conrad was having dinner alone with his son-in-law. On the way home, the wealthy man suffered a fatal attack, literally dying in Arthurs arms.

Arthur sighed a mournful sigh as he stared through the glass of the dining car into the darkness. _It had been a brilliant scheme_ , he thought. _Everything was going right on schedule…until that Dillon woman stumbled into our plan._

"Hey" Jillian snapped her fingers in Arthurs face. "Where are you? Stop daydreaming. We have work to do!"

Arthur smiled and smashed the butt of his cigar into the glass ashtray. She wasn't angry at this point, but only because she didn't have the time. Right now, all of Jillie's attention was on Kitty Dillon—the only woman that could ruin an otherwise perfect murder. Jillian would deal with the Dillon woman; and then…she would settle the score with that marshal.

"Okay, Jillie. What do we do now?"

"First of all, it's _Benita_. How many times must I remind you? We've come too far to blow it over a name!" The blonde paused, waiting for the boy to leave after serving her drink.

"Obviously, that Pintal kid was unsuccessful. At least he got rid of your wife's body for us. Don't worry, we'll get her in Dodge. How hard can it be, in that Podunk cattle town, to kill one little woman?" She started to rise and then sat back down. "I just had a thought." Jillian pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed as a plan began to formulate within that] devious blonde head. "There's something I need for you to do."

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Kitty had relaxed enough to leave the security of Matt's lap. She took a seat opposite him on the edge of the berth. Just as she was about to ask her husband a question, Silas rapped lightly, announcing his presence in the hall.

Matt was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to find the dedicated porter holding a tray with sandwiches and a pitcher of beer. "Kitty, look what Silas brought. How did you know we were starving?"

Silas noticed the lady trying to smooth down her hair and straighten her torn dress in order to be more presentable. It was obvious she was embarrassed by her appearance. It was also obvious, by the way she looked at the tray, that she was hungry. "May I pour you a beer? I could get you a glass of wine if you prefer?"

"No, beer is fine. Thank you so much." Silas placed one of the sandwiches on a napkin and handed it to Kitty, along with a glass.

"While I was asking around about the young man, I talked to Boise." He paused, pouring another glass for the marshal. "Boise tends bar in the dining car. He said you had asked for something to eat, but got chased away by the blonde lady."

Matt responded with a grunting sound, since his mouth was full of roast beef.

"Boise said she was—aggressive—to say the least. She was obviously taken with you, sir."

Matt swallowed the last bit of his sandwich. "Aggressive! Humph! I thought she was going to-" His words stopped when he became aware of the intense interest his wife had in this conversation.

Kitty nibbled around the edge of the sandwich. "You thought she was going to do what?"

Matt cleared his throat and approached a different subject. "What did you find out about the Pintal boy?"

"A boy fitting that description did come on board in Kansas City, but I've checked the entire train and he's not on board now." Silas glanced at the pretty redhead, taking notice of her quiet demeanor. "He fell off the train didn't he?"

Dropping the remains of the sandwich onto the table, Kitty peered up at the kind face, nodding slowly.

"I'm sorry for all you have gone through tonight. You seem like a very nice lady and you don't deserve this."

"Thank you." She offered a weak, but genuine smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"It's Silas, ma'am." He turned to Matt as he headed toward the door. "I'll be close by, just flip the sign if you need anything." The old man stepped into the hall. As he made his rounds back toward the other ticketholders, he prayed for the safety of that nice lady.

Silas stepped onto the platform between the cars. He leaned down on the railing, staring at the track that whizzed beneath the wheels. It wouldn't do any good to look for that boy. By now, whatever was left, would have been swooped up by the buzzards, or carried off by wolves. The old man shook his head in a sad gesture, contemplating the young boys' demise.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

"There's another sandwich left. Want it?" Matt watched his wife strip off the ruined dress, along with the stockings. Even the camisole and petticoat were either ripped, or smeared with grease from the train.

"No, you go ahead." Kitty dropped the remains into the trash receptacle in the corner. "Can you get that bag down for me?"

Matt grinned as he polished off the last of the food. "You don't need to dress on my account."

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6 - Finally Home

**Death Train - Flame Series #8**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Finally Home**

Matt was relieved to see that Newly had arrived at the train station alone to pick them up. Both Dillons knew that Calleigh would learn of Kitty's close call on the train, but they really didn't want to go into it today.

Matt helped his wife up into the buggy, "You wait here with Newly. I'll get the bags." Newly quickly offered to retrieve the luggage, but the marshal waved him off.

"The family sure missed you." Despite his heartfelt words, Newly appeared to be distracted. He looked at Kitty and nodded to a wagon at the far end of the depot. "What's going on down there? Is that a casket?"

Kitty watched Percy Crump's wagon back up to the platform and two men loaded a fancy wooden casket onto the back. "Oh, I heard some talk at the depot while we were boarding. That must be Sadie Nethers."

"As in Boyle Nethers?" Newly squinted as the casket disappeared into Crump's wagon.

Boyle Nethers had grown up in Dodge City and gone on to be the Assistant Secretary-of-State to Edwin Allen. He continued to make quite a name for himself and had become quite wealthy in the course of his career. "I thought they moved from here a long time ago."

"No, just Boyle. His grandparents, Clint and Sadie, stayed on at that little farm on the edge of town. Clint passed away last year and Sadie wasn't able to stay there alone. She has been living with her sister Flora, in Kansas City. I'm surprised she lived this long without Clint. They were a couple in love all right. Married almost seventy years. It didn't surprise me to learn she wanted to be brought back here to be buried with Clint." As the words left her lips, Kitty saw Matt approaching the buggy and hoped they could have as many years together as God had given to Clint and Sadie.

It was a joint effort between Matt and Kitty, to share with their son-in-law, the details of their precarious journey home. Unlike his wife, Newly was able to listen to the dangerous tale without flying into a rage. Of course, he was relieved that Kitty was relatively unscathed, but his curiosity as a lawman surfaced with questions.

"You are still certain that] you saw him murder someone?" His question wasn't born of doubt, he was simply verifying the story.

"I'm sure he killed a woman." Kitty confirmed the first part with confidence. The latter part held more uncertainty. "I just don't know 'who' the victim was."

Matt gave a quick, sidelong glance at his wife, "Let's keep this quiet until we have more information."

Newly nodded, not really understanding the secrecy, but always willing to take Matt's direction.

Matt turned again to his deputy, "Can you do some checking on an Arthur Helton? He's from Melrose, Texas." He caught the questioning gaze from his wife. "Pringle sent a wire to the station. Silas handed it to me as we were leaving." Matt produced the paper from his pocket. "The hotel listed Helton's hometown as, Melrose."

"Where were they headed?"

"They were on their way to Chicago; but, for some unknown reason, decided to spend a few days in Dodge." Matt saw that look of complete understanding flash across Newly's face.

"I think I understand part of the problem. The people that tried to kill Kitty, are staying here in Dodge…with Calleigh." Images of past episodes involving the little redhead protecting one of her own, caused the deputy to shiver.

"No sense getting her all riled up until we have some solid evidence to arrest them both." Matt's suggestion was met with full approval.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Calleigh pulled back the cover, folding it neatly at the bottom of the bed. "What happened at the train depot?"

Newly finished pulling off his boots, and then quickly dropped his pants and shirt beside them. "Nothing happened. Why?"

She climbed in between the cool sheets. "They both seemed…tense." Calleigh waited for him to slide in beside her. "Did something happen in Kansas City?"

He reached for his wife pulling her into his arms. "Stop playing detective and start playing wife."

Before she had a chance to object, his mouth closed over hers. The dueling and tasting of tongues, took priority over any more questions.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Matt found his wife in her usual spot on the balcony. "You know, I'm trying to figure out a way to move the bed out here." He stepped up beside her, staring out over their land. "Finding any answers out here?"

Kitty pressed her body against his side, leaning her head onto his chest. "I'm not sure I know the questions. Now that we're home, I'm beginning to wonder if I imagined everything. Or maybe I'm just hoping that I did."

Matt pulled his wife around in front of himself. He moved his hands from Kitty's waist and brought them up to cup her face. "I wish I could go and arrest them, but we both know, that's not going to happen." He leaned down, placing a well positioned kiss on the tip of her nose. "I'm just glad that you're safe and that they'll be leaving soon."

The high-pitched sound of those steel wheels singing against the tracks played in Matt's head, causing him to press Kitty closer and to hold her just a tad bit tighter.

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7 - Simp Wensley

**Death Train - Flame Series #8**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Simp Wensley**

Kitty and Tia stood in the entryway of the Prairie Rose. The younger of the two listened intently to her boss's request. "I wanted to talk to you about the sketches Malina gave me for the new banquet rooms. The ideas are marvelous but-" Kitty paused when Tia held up her hand to interrupt.

" _Malina_ gave you the sketches?" Tia was born with a smile, and she was rarely seen without it.

However, this was one of those rare moments. She shifted her focus back to the restaurant. Green eyes sparked with anger, as her mind's eyes took her past the elaborately etched glass door, past the bustling dining room and into the kitchen—where a dark-haired young woman was strutting around the room. The fact that Tia could not physically see her, didn't alter the truth of the vision one bit.

"She said you worked on the ideas together." Kitty added.

Now those green eyes returned to what she could see. They focused on the proprietor, but the sparks of rage were not directed at the lady in front of her. "WE… did not work on anything! Those sketches came from Bethany! She has been working on thos-"

"Tia, Tia." Kitty could feel the rage in the girl's trembling hands when she took them into her own. " _I know_." She watched the girl try to let go of enough anger to process her words. "I keep in touch with Bethany too, you know."

The frown looked out of place on the blonde. It was there, not from anger now, but bewilderment. Several times Tia started to speak, but only bits and fragments of thought tumbled out. It was easier just to wait for the explanation.

"Bethany sent me copies AND she told me you two had been working on them together. Not, Malina Potter. I don't know how Malina got her hands on them, but she must have thought she could slip in there and get a boost on her career." Kitty reached out, brushing the blonde tresses back behind the girls shoulder. "She has been…" There was a pause as the redhead searched for the right word. "…Approaching me… about taking _your_ place when you take Bethany's position."

Again, those green eyes flashed, "That…that…" If only she had been standing in front of anyone but Kitty Dillon, it would have been so easy to finish that sentence. "You know that is NOT true!"

Kitty had to smile. If integrity were a commodity, this girl would be wealthy beyond belief. "Yes, I know. I also know you are wondering why I told you this." She waited for a sign that Tia had calmed down enough to listen. "You and Bethany have become like sisters and are both indispensible to me—as well as to the Prairie Rose. The last thing we need is an in-house agitator."

"Are you going to fire her?" An exuberant glint appeared in Tia's eyes and the smile reappeared.

Kitty pulled herself erect, facing the young woman head on. "No, _you_ are going to do it."

"Me!?" The familiar smile returned, with an added touch of revenge. "Really? Me?"

The sounds on the boardwalk made way for the laughter of the two women. It would have been a pleasant moment, had someone not bumped into Kitty, knocking her forward. Tia was quick to catch her boss before she fell into the plate glass window.

In the midst of the confusion, a voice was heard repeating placating words: "Sorry…didn't see you…accident." The words were appropriate, but they held no sincerity—coming from the lips of Arthur Helton. He had placed his hands on Kitty's shoulders to steady her; at least that was his pretense.

Kitty jerked free of Helton's repugnant touch, a move that did not go unnoticed by her young protégé. Despite their difference in age, the girl pushed the unwelcomed hand away in a protective gesture. Absent was the charming smile and greeting of "Welcome to the Prairie Rose."

"Mrs. Dillon." Helton pulled his 'wife' closer, both assuming overly caring expressions. "I was talking to my wife and did not see you there." He looked at the woman on his arm and then back to Kitty. "You haven't ever actually been introduced to my wife, have you?" The man's smugness was suffocating the two Dodge women. "Mrs. Dillon, this is Benita Helton, my wife. Benita, this is the woman who was so concerned with your well being."

Kitty refused to be pulled into their charade. Casting a scathing look at the two of them, she turned back toward Tia, as if to dismiss the Heltons' presence.

"We'll talk later." Tia offered, along with a faint smile and a nod, before returning to work.

As the irritated, redheaded lady stepped up onto her sidesaddle she could hear Tia's cold, but polite greeting to the Heltons. She was so intent on listening, she failed to see Simp Wensley squat down in front of M'Lady. However, she did see him jump up and start to run. Chaos hit before she could make sense of anything else. Kitty thought she recognized gunfire. Multiple gunshots. M'Lady reared up on her hind legs in fear, before running away from the terrifying sound. Kitty had become quite proficient riding sidesaddle. Possibly, she could have maintained her seat, had the cinch not broken away.

The shots, the screaming of the horse and rider, all drew the attention of storekeepers and shoppers. Two of those shoppers happened to be loading a supply wagon for the LadyK. The pair consisted of a scruffy hill man, along with his temporary assistant, a feisty little redhead. Both instantly recognized the rider. The supplies fell to the ground when they took off in a dead run.

Calleigh came to a sliding stop like a runner aiming for first base. She gently rolled Kitty over. There was an obvious lump on her mother's forehead, and she was unconscious. There were lots of scrapes and minor cuts, but no serious bleeding.

"Festus, take her up to the office." The young doctor stared pensively at the unconscious woman. It wasn't necessary, but she felt obligated to say it anyway. "Please, be careful with her."

Forcing herself to run ahead, Calleigh hurried up the steps of what had become the Town Clinic, and prepped for the incoming patient. Then she waited for Festus to arrive with the injured woman.

"It's gonna be all right. Don't cha go worryin about a thang. Calleigh girl is gonna fix you right up." Whether or not Kitty could hear him, Festus needed to hear the words himself.

Calleigh had barely begun her examination when the room filled with lawmen. Matt crossed the room in half the steps it took Newly to reach the examining table. The Marshal wanted to touch his wife, to brush the hair from that nasty cut, but he knew better. Calleigh would take care of her.

"What happened!" His angry blue eyes scanned the room, searching for an answer.

"We wuz a loadin the wagin when we heard a bunch a poppin sounds. Wernt gunfire, but sounded near enuf to it that Miss Kitty's horse got scairt. At first it looked like it just went and bucked her off; but the saddle came off too, Matthew. Just slid right off, slicker than a pig in a mud hole."

Matt listened to the man's explanation, without taking his eyes from his wife. "Saddles don't just slide off! Will you go check it out?"

"Sure thing Matthew."

The Marshal heard the jingle of spurs headed for the door and called out, "Festus. Thank you."

No response. None was needed, or expected.

Newly had switched roles from deputy to nurse, as he assisted his wife. "Doesn't look like anything is broken.".

"You saw the cut on her shoulder."

He glanced up only briefly. "Yeah, it didn't look deep enough for stitches."

"I think you're right." She reached for the bandage that she knew her husband would have prepared. When she pulled back the loose material from the torn riding skirt, Calleigh was momentarily confused by her discovery. "These bruises aren't fresh. Look at this Newly. It looks like someone took a club to her!" The young doctor quickly checked the other side, only to find similar cuts and bruises. "What the…"

Newly remembered the part of the story about Kitty's legs being slammed against the side of the train, no doubt, causing the marks. He knew his wife was not going to let this go calmly—definitely not quietly. She looked up in time to catch the wary glance between the Marshal and his Deputy.

Calleigh's blue eyes crinkled into narrow dark slits. They knew! They both knew where those bruises came from and had deliberately kept her in the dark. "We **will** talk!" She snapped.

Kitty made sounds of someone nearing consciousness and therefore saved both men from Calleigh's wrath. Newly stepped aside, knowing that the Marshal's face was going to be the one this woman would want to see first.

Despite her anger, Calleigh uttered a sigh of relief and switched from doctor to daughter, when she kissed her patient's forehead. Matt took his place on the opposite side of the table. Now, he was allowed to stroke her hair. The two watched as Kitty slowly came back into the conscious world. Blue eyes blinking wide, trying to comprehend so many things: Where she was? How did she get here? What had happened?

Despite all of these excellent questions, the one she chose was not really a surprise to anyone in the room. "Is M'Lady all right?"

Father and daughter exchanged a look and a sigh.

"Yes," the young woman replied. "M'Lady is fine. Do you remember what happened?"

"I just remember hearing what I thought were gunshots. Then...just falling." Kitty started to sit up, but attempted it a bit too quickly. Calleigh motioned to Matt to hold her. "Sit still for a bit, to get your bearings."

"Yes ma'am." It wasn't often that Kitty got to see her daughter in a professional mode. Usually, Calleigh was being precocious. Of course, Kitty adored the child, whichever character she chose to be on any given day.

Before Matt could ask another question, Festus reappeared and called him outside. Matt wanted to stay with his wife, but she was in good hands. "I'll be back to take you home. You just rest until I get back." He searched for an unmarked spot and then left a kiss.

"She gonna be all right, is she, Matthew?" Festus asked nervously, as they hurried down the steps.

"Calleigh said she was just banged up some. Nothing's broken. What did you find out?"

"It weren't no acci-dent, Matthew. That cinch done been cut. Sum bodies wanted her to take that there fall." They walked a couple of steps in silence before Festus continued. "Simp Wensley is a waitin in the jail." The sound of jangling spurs grew louder as he hurried his step to keep with the Marshal's long strides.

"Simp Wensley? What's he got to do with this?"

Clyde Wensley was a twenty-two year old boy that would never mature past the mental age of seven or eight. When he was little, the other kids had teased him mercilessly. They had called him a 'simpleton' so many times, that the name _Clyde_ just kind of got lost and _Simp_ took its' place.

The two men reached the jail, but Festus paused before opening the door. "He's a purty scairt boy, Matthew. He dint know what he done wuz wrong."

Matt understood his friend's concern. Even he'd be the first to admit that he could be irrational where Kitty safety was involved. "Okay, let's talk to him." Matt said simply.

Huddled in the corner sat a curly-headed young man. Matt reached out his hand and pulled Simp to his skinny, five-foot-six frame and pointed to the chair. "Simp. We just need to know what happened."

"Am I gonna hang?" Despite his size, his thought process was clearly that of a child.

"No, son. I just need to know what happened."

Simp reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out four broken firecrackers, a small rock and a half a stick of horehound candy. His dirty fingers trembled as he laid his treasures on the desk.

Matt fought to stay calm as he separated the firecrackers from the pile. "Where did you get these?"

"The lady gived em to me to play the joke. She gived me a dime too." The look in his eyes that shuffled between the two men, wavered between gullible and innocent. "I dun spended the dime on candy."

"That's fine Simp; but who was the lady?"

"The lady? Oh, I didn't see her, Marshal. It was night and she stayed hided in the dark. But I knowd it was a lady cause she spoke perty. Like Miss Kitty does."

"Why did you wait until today, if she told you to do it last night?" Matt knew that Simp wouldn't lie, but he wasn't sure that the man/child remembered what exactly had taken place.

"Well, no… she gived me the money last night and asked me if I knowd Miss Kitty." A child's smile appeared on the man's' face. "I said, 'course. Ever'body knows Miss Kitty. Then she said to foller her today and when she gits on her horse, I shud put a fire to them. Then ever'body could see it." He pointed to the firecrackers. "Thems broke in my pocket."

Matt took a deep breath in an attempt to rein in his anger. The boy deserved compassion, but Matt remained confused by his actions. "Why did you try to hurt Miss Kitty, Simp? She has always been good to you, hasn't she?"

Suddenly the young man's face was amassed with terror. "Hurt? Miss Kitty? I'd _never_ hurt her! That lady said it'd be a funny joke. She said Miss Kitty would laugh." Tears formed in Simp's eyes, as his gaze bounced from one face to the other. "Did I hurt her bad? Is she gonna die?"

Matt pulled the boy up from the chair and placed a compassionate arm around his shoulder. "Miss Kitty is going to be fine, Simp. You go on home, but you come to Newly or me if that woman tries to give you money for another joke. Okay?"

Simp's head bobbed in an exaggerated motion, as he ran toward the door. "Yes sir, Marshal."

The moment Simp closed the door behind him; rage consumed the compassion that Matt had held onto for the boy's sake. "Are they still in town?" He readjusted his hat with the brim farther down over her forehead.

"Purty shore they went into the Prairie Rose. Don't know if'n they's still there." Festus knew without asking, where the Marshal was heading. Without a word, he stepped in behind the lawman. They crossed the street, but when they stepped up onto the boardwalk, Tia was waiting for them outside the restaurant.

"They left." Traces of anger remained on Tia's face. "Seems as though they didn't like the service here." She nodded toward the building down the street. "I think they went to the Long Branch for a drink."

Matt studied the young lady for only a second. He gave her a look that conveyed both gratitude and approval, before heading across the street. Years of habit stopped him at the batwing doors, where he scanned the customers until he came across the ones he wanted; at which point the Marshal barreled through the swinging doors.

Helton heard the commotion, but refused to turn around. There was no need, since his wife was facing the charging giant. With a single look, she warned her husband to be prepared.

"Helton!" Matt stood, legs braced apart, fingers flexing into fists at his side. Blue eyes burned into the expensively dressed dude. "Stand up!"

Arthur Helton offered his wife a tiny smirk. "I'm busy right at the moment Mars-"

Benita Helton jerked away from the table almost as quickly as the Marshal pulled her husband to his feet. The difference being _her_ feet were still touching the ground.

Matt gripped two handfuls of slick, blue material that comprised the obstinate man's fancy suit. "Let me tell you something! You come near my wife again. This badge won't stop me." It was almost imperceptible, but Matt did feel Festus's hand touch his shoulder. Faint as it was, it was enough to keep him grounded.

"Marshal!" Unlike her husband, Benita Helton was not afraid of this big man. She had seen the scruffy man's attempt to reel the Marshal in and knew they had touched a nerve by harming his lady. Mrs. Helton had a trump card that even this giant wouldn't call. "You have no call to treat my husband like that! Everybody in here has been talking about what happened to your wife. From what I heard," Benita paused, as she walked in a seductive step around the table. "A _woman_ hired that unfortunate young man."

Matt released his grip enough for Helton's toes to once again contact the floor. Everything in him wanted to strike that woman. The very thing he abhorred in bullies, he was now guilty of wanting to do. "Are you saying that _you_ hired him?" He knew there was a tremor of rage in his voice that he was unable to hide.

Benita uttered a faint giggle that matched her coy smile. "Me? Certainly not. Are you wanting…" The slender blonde beauty took still another step closer to the clearly enraged man. "…to arrest me? Or… Surely you wouldn't _strike_ a woman?"

This was not a winnable situation and Matt had an injured wife waiting. With a final show of anger, Matt thrust Helton back into the table, causing him to tumble again to the floor. "You!" He looked first at the man and then toward the brazen blonde. "Both of you—stay away from my wife!"

Festus had stayed, more for Matt's protection than theirs. He was pretty sure the Marshal would stay within the law, but harming Miss Kitty was really pushing his limits. The hill man wandered over to the bar and questioned Pete about the dubious couple. There wasn't much to tell. The wife had told the truth. Apparently, the tale of Kitty's 'accident' had spread faster than a buttered bullet. Pete offered Festus a beer, which he politely turned down and headed toward the door.

MDKDMDKDMDKDMD

Not wanting to upset Kitty, Calleigh had remained calm in her presence, even as she listened to the simplified version of what had happened on the train. That state of calm deserted her the very second her foot hit the landing outside of Doc's office.

Festus was nearly to the doorway when he heard a familiar scream headed toward the bar. He looked back at the Heltons, then rushed the few remaining feet to the door. The batwings flew open with such force, they slammed clear against the wall snapping one of them off at the hinge.

The tiny wind had brought with it a mighty force. Festus barely managed to grab the redhead before she located her quarry. Calleigh had spent the day working alongside Festus, which meant that not only was she about ten steps ahead of rage, she was armed as well.

"Let go of me!" Calleigh squirmed and fought for freedom as her fury exploded. "I will hurt you people in ways that aren't spoken of in the daylight! Festus, let me go!" Her attention shifted from the couple, to the man holding her hostage from her own temper. "Maybe _he_ won't hit you lady," Her threat was suspended only long enough to make another struggling attempt at freedom. "But I will. So help me I will claw your eyes out!"

Benita Helton's first reaction to the pint-sized cowgirl, was to snicker. That first impression didn't last long. She noticed that Arthur had moved around to her side of the table and was standing very close. They shared a look that said this young woman was not only unstable, but dangerous.

"Look, I don't know who you are-"

"I'm Kitty Dillon's daughter, you two-bit piece of trash!" Festus was wearing down and Calleigh managed to touch the ground long enough to drag him forward a couple of steps.

"Calleigh girl, yur gonna haft to stop this!" He managed to wrap his arms around hers to keep her from drawing that gun.

"That girl's insane. You need to get her out of here." Benita had lost some of the obvious confidence she had displayed earlier with the Marshal.

"I'm a trying, you imbe-sil!" Just before his strength gave out, reinforcements arrived. A fresh recruit came to the rescue and took the girl off Festus' hands.

"Ya got her Newly?" Festus gladly relinquished his grip and fell back against one of the tables, hungry for a moment to relax and catch his breath.

Neither her screaming nor squirming had stopped—or even slacked off—but Newly managed what Festus couldn't, when he got her out of the Long Branch. Even now, the patrons could hear the litany of threats being promised by the volatile redhead, as she was being pulled away.

Festus had pulled enough air into his lungs to be able to breathe naturally once again. He walked over to the Helton's table. Unlike his partner, his tone was soft, but the threat was just as real. "You dun made that there little girl right angry and that's a bad place to be. She is powerful fond of her ma and do not take kindly to sum persons trying to hurt her. See, her daddy respects that thar badge and he'll do what's right… To a point." The last words were nothing less than a warning "But she don't wear no badge. What she wears is a gun and that…is a purty scairy thought."

With the screaming threat gone, Benita reclaimed a bit of her cockiness. "Well I for one-"

"Uh...uh...uh. Don't start ya braggen jest yet missy." Festus leaned closer than Benita wanted the scruffy man to be. He squinted one eye while a boney finger appeared in her face. "She jest _looks_ to be tiny, but she's a wearin sum mighty big britches—jest you ask around. Now, I held her back this here time, but if'n you try to hurt Miss Kitty again…I'll not only set her loose, I'll help her my own self."

Festus reached down and picked up the beer that Arthur Helton had abandoned. In a long, continuous gulp, Festus polished off the cold liquid and slammed the empty glass back onto the wooden table. "Thanks for the beer."

The jangle of spurs commanded the room's attention. Festus took slow deliberate steps, pausing momentarily to inspect the dangling batwing door, before leaving the bar.

A sigh of relief made its way through the crowd. Arthur Helton steadied his chair back on all four legs. He brushed the dirt from the barroom floor off of his pants before taking his seat.

"Could I have a whiskey over here?" He caught the sarcastic scowl from his wife and quickly amended his order. "Make it two, bartender."

"Thanks!" He was always amazed at the hateful inflection his wife could evoke in a solitary word. Jillian's gaze was fixed on the doorway, as she stood beside the table. Too many minutes had passed and those amber eyes darted sharply to the man at the table. She cast a look at her husband, that could wilt an entire field of sunflowers with a single glance. Arthur quickly rose to his feet and pulled out the seething woman's chair. Whether she was Jillian Killeman, or Benita Helton, this woman had certain standards for herself that _no man_ was going to ignore.

Pete sat the two whiskeys on the table, as Arthur returned to his seat. "Well _that_ was pleasant. I think Kitty Dillon is more than just a Marshal's wife, as you so quaintly put it." He polished the drink in one long gulp and motioned to Pete for another.

"It may be more challenging than I initially thought, but nobody is unreachable." Jillie grimaced after taking a drink. "This tastes like cheap rotgut. I thought this was supposed to be the best saloon in town?"

Arthur reached across the table, quietly removing the inferior liquid from the woman's sight. The whiskey was first class, but her mood deemed it otherwise. It was easier to have Pete replace it with a brandy, than to argue its merits. "Why did you have to pull that stunt with the firecrackers? There wasn't much chance it would actually kill her."

"Maybe I just wanted to mess with her!" Jillian could spit out words as if they were dipped in poison. "…And him." She added. "He seems to set such store by his woman _._ " Her body seemed to relax with a dismissive shrug, "Maybe I just wanted to see him hurt a little."

As much as he admired her, even loved her in his own way, Arthur was still smart enough to be afraid of her. No telling how far she would go to teach that Marshal a lesson. "Why don't we just go on to Chicago? Jillie, they can't prove a thing."

"Stop calling me that!" Ripe cherry lips that covered perfect white teeth could not hide the ugly seething tone in her speech. "I am _not_ going to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life because of some…some ex-saloon keeper!" Jillie ran the tip of her finger around the top of the brandy sifter. One finger slipped into the caramel-colored liquid. She held the finger to her lips, taking it into her mouth and slowly sucking off the fruity substance.

Arthur swallowed hard, as did the cowboy sitting alone in the far corner—both mesmerized by the woman's seductive manipulations. "What are you thinking?"

"That Marshal. Hmmm. On second thought I think I might be giving up on him too soon." She rested the enticing finger on the edge of the glass again. "He looks like an awful lot of man for just one woman. Especially one that's given up the good life and turned homemaker. She's got kids hanging all over her. What man wants to come home to that?"

"I don't know." Arthur murmured, "He sure didn't seem interested back there in the dining car on the train."

"I just didn't have time to really get to know him. To show him how…friendly I can be. No strings attached, of course." Among Jillie's many attributes, self confidence hovered near the top of the list.

Arthur downed his third whisky, at the memory of the big man holding him up so high his feet scarcely brushed the floor. "That didn't seem like an act to me. I think he would have killed me, if it hadn't been for that scruffy little man."

"Of course he was upset. He's the Marshal. How does it look when he can't even protect his own wife?" A black-hearted smile preceded her final words. "I think once she's gone and the dust settles down, he'll be right grateful. Not to mention needing a…sympathetic shoulder."

The malevolent expression that lay claim to her face was depraved enough to frighten the cowboy in the corner. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching the blonde's performance with the brandy, even got a little excited. That excitement morphed into pure terror as he watched the transformation from beauty to beast. Leaving half a beer, the observer quietly got up and hurried out of the bar.

"Do you have a plan, or just an idea?" They were cohorts. They were partners. They were even lovers; but neither fooled themselves into believing they were _in_ love. Helton knew that Jillian had been selling her body for a premium price for several years. In a sick, twisted way, it brought him pleasure to know that other men paid a lot of money for what he was getting for free. When Jillie insinuated her plan to seduce Dillon, Arthur was curious, not jealous.

"Humph. First, I need to get him alone. He's got the desire for fun in there somewhere if he got involved with a saloon girl in the first place."

"How did you know she was a saloon girl?"

"I had lunch with that guy that runs the freight station. He was very talkative."

"So that's where you disappeared to yesterday afternoon." Arthur could feel himself becoming excited at the thought of her seducing some poor sap.

"Don't get so excited." Jillie laughed. "He…let's just say he wasn't up to the occasion." She paused again, sharing a laugh with Arthur. "I think I overwhelmed him a bit. But he did do a lot of talking. Dillon hung around that woman for ten years before he finally married her." She lowered her lids in a condescending gaze. "Many a man has been caught up in the pregnant trap."

Helton's brows furrowed into a frown, matching his lips. "That girl, that wild thing that threatened us? She said the Dillon woman was her mother."

"Yes, but apparently there is some speculation as to whether or not the Marshal is the father. That would explain why he didn't marry her the first time she got pregnant." She reached over brushing the back of her hand along his cheek. "All this talk is making me hungry. Let's go get some lunch."

"The food at that Delmonico's was not very good. Do you want to go back to that Rose place? Maybe we just caught the help on a bad day."

"I don't think so." Jillie linked her arm through Arthur's as they left the saloon. "Our Mrs. Dillon owns the Prairie Rose. I doubt that we will ever be welcome there. So, it's either bad food, or bad service."

Arthur mumbled more to himself than his partner. "Not much choice, since we got both bad food and bad service at Delmonico's.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKDMDKD**

Long black lashes fluttered slowly, accepting the soft coral glow of the evening sun. Sapphire eyes gradually brought the room into focus. Kitty rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping away the last traces of sleep. She was not surprised to find her husband, comfortably settled into his favorite chair. One ankle resting on the opposite thigh held a stack of papers. Posters, most likely, that he was sorting through.

A voice still caressed by sleep, called out to the sentinel on guard. "Matt, what are you doing?"

The lawman stacked up his papers and dropped them onto the nearby table. With a welcoming smile, he pulled himself up and crossed over to the bed. "Just passing time 'til my favorite girl woke up." Matt leaned down to kiss his sleeping beauty, before taking a seat on the side of the bed.

He brushed a wisp of hair from her face. "How do you feel?"

Kitty looked around the room, questioning the position of the sun. "What time is it?"

"Close to seven. Why? Do you have someplace to be?" His tone was teasing but his eyes still filled with concern.

"Seven?" She moved as if to get up, only to be blocked by one of Matt's huge hands. "I can't believe I slept this long! I have to get dinner. The kids…"

"Simmer down. You can thank Doc and his magic powder for the extra long nap. He figured you wouldn't rest any other way. As for the kids, they're fine. He took them into town to have dinner at the Prairie Rose. They even brought something back for you."

A slender hand reached up to stroke his cheek, as she eased back onto the bed. "Have you been sitting there all afternoon?"

He shrugged, as if it were too trivial to mention. "Where else would I be? You haven't answered me; how do you feel?"

Her attempt to stretch was cut short by a wince and a sharp breath. "Sore. My shoulder hurts." She tried to turn far enough to see the wound, but it was too far back.

"You got bruised and scraped up pretty good. The cut on your shoulder wasn't deep enough for stitches. Calleigh just bandaged it."

"Well it doesn't sound to me like I was hurt bad enough to be lollygagging in bed half the day."

"And exactly what medical school did you graduate from?" Matt took her hand, cradling it in both of his. It never ceased to amaze him how delicate she was.

Kitty watched Matt as he studied and compared her hand to his. He worried so much about his family. It seemed like he was always having to protect them, or getting into scrapes because of them. "Matt" She waited for him to bring his blue eyes in line with hers. "Are you ever sorry that you took on a family? That maybe you were better off pretending that we were just friends?"

The lines of worry that marred his forehead faded, while his smile grew wider. That familiar twinkle returned to his eyes. "You _must_ have hit your head when M'Lady threw you off." Matt cupped her chin in his hand. "The only regret that I have, is the years we wasted hiding it. Why, we could have had three or four more kids, if we had started ten years sooner."

His response evoked the laughter from her that he had hoped for. Matt pulled Kitty from her resting place and into his arms. "I love you Kitty Dillon. Nothing in this world could ever make me regret marrying you." Again, his lips sought hers, sealing his confession. "Now, unless you have any more silly questions, we need to get some food into you. Do you want to go downstairs for a bite, or would you rather I bring it up to you?"

Kitty sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. The room took a bit of spin, causing her to grab her husband's arm. Her intention to stand was obviously of no concern to Matt, as he slid his arms under her legs, pulling her up with him.

"Doc said that medicine would probably leave you woozy. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

Kitty wrapped her arms around her knight, accepting his gallant offer. "Where are Calleigh and Newly?"

Matt turned enough to maneuver them both through the door. "Still in town I guess. I haven't seen Festus either. The last I heard, Calleigh found out what happened on the train. I doubt _that_ went too well."

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8 - Jailed

**Flame Series #8: Death Train**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Jailed**

Calleigh sat with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her delicate jaw line set firm with anger. Penetrating blue eyes probed the room, mentally dismembering the two men in front of her.

Newly and Festus traded a fearful look. The scruffy man nodded toward the redhead, pushing Newly to try to make peace. The young deputy frowned, unsure it was a good idea to poke the bear. With a little more prompting, Newly took a chance. "Calleigh? Can we talk about this?"

The young physician's head warily inched upward. Glaring blue eyes peered though the bars, confronting her captors. "You _knew_! You knew what happened on that train!"

"Now, Calleigh, it's true we did know but-"

"But, nothing! You also knew that woman got Simp to set those firecrackers!" Calleigh's tone was suddenly dripping of sarcasm. "Yet, _**I'M**_ the one in jail!"

"We had to do this." Newly kept a safe distance from the cell, while Festus peered over his friend's shoulder.

"He's right, Calleigh girl. We done did this for your own good." Her silence gave the scruffy man a teeny bit of confidence, as he stepped up beside the deputy. "You coulda hurt them people, an' then we'd hafta arrest you fur real."

"THIS… isn't for real!?" With a stare that could put a layer of frost on the sun—and a tone to match—she eased up from the cot and ventured slowly toward the iron barriers. Small, slender fingers wrapped around the bars. The two men stood side-by-side, waiting for the redhead to break the silence.

Break it she did! The calm was destroyed, as the young girl violently attacked the cage door. Her screaming colorful descriptions of revenge did little to quash the two men's fears. Festus eased his way toward the office, gently pulling Newly along with him. Even with the heavy wooden door shut, they could still hear the muffled threats of the Marshals' daughter.

"How long do you think it'll be before she calms down, Newly?"

The young deputy ran his hand through his hair, reminiscent of the Marshal's gesture when baffled. "I don't know. I don't think she's been this mad since that skunk incident."

"Whew, I was scairt to go around her for at least two weeks! We cain't leave her locked up fur that long."

Newly threw up one hand to silence his friend. "Shh. Listen…" They leaned forward, heads almost touching. Both were straining to understand the sudden quiet emanating from the back room. "Think she's all right?" Newly whispered.

"She's probably bending them bars to break free. Yur her husband; go see."

"Huh! Do you know what kind of surgery she could perform on me while I'm asleep? I'll wait."

His butt had barely touched the wooden seat, when he jumped back up to his feet. "Go over to the Prairie Rose. Get a fresh cup of coffee…and a big wedge of pie! Maybe we can appease her with food."

"I knowd they do that with wild animals, so it shud work for us. I'll be back before you can say-"

"Yeah, yeah rat…roof…raw liver. I got it—just go Festus."

 **MDKDMDKDMDKDMDKD**

Calleigh plopped back onto the thin lumpy mattress covering the cot. She crossed her legs in front of her, leaning her elbows on her knees. Finding those cuts and bruises on Kitty had frightened her. Learning that someone deliberately tried to kill her mother, enraged the young woman. Being thrown in jail by her husband and best friend—that was the ultimate factor to tip the scales.

She let her gaze wander aimlessly around the drab, barren cell. The image of the two frightened grown men flashed in her head, bringing with it a _snarky_ grin, as Festus would say. "Humph, some tough guys." Calleigh thought about calling out to them, in a calmer tone of course.

The temporary prisoner scooted back against the brick wall. Her thoughts returned to Kitty and those people who were trying to kill her. She had only learned bits and pieces. Calleigh silently chastised herself for losing control before getting the whole story.

 _I really need to work on that_ , she mused. On second thought, developing patience probably wouldn't be at the top of her self-improvement list any time soon.

A rapping at the door that separated the cells from the office drew her attention. A much calmer voice called to the jailers. "It's safe. Come on in."

Newly came in first, with Festus on his heels. "We figured you might be hungry after all the…excitement."

Calleigh slipped off the cot and stepped up next to the bars. "What do you have there?"

"Fresh apple pie and coffee." Both men looked hopeful that the tirade was over.

Calleigh chewed on the side of her lip as she studied the peace offering and the two anxious faces. A calm swept over her face. "Are you going to make me eat that-" Her tone was suddenly sweeter than the dessert being offered. "…In here?"

Once again, the two men exchanged a dubious glance. "Well, maybe-"

"That pie sure smells good." She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she pressed her body against the bars. "Come on; open the door."

Festus blew out a breath, relieved that the impasse was over. Calleigh raised her lids, just enough to catch a glimpse of the scruffy man grabbing the keys from the hook on the wall. Newly caught the secretive glance and recognized it instantly.

His hands were full with the coffee in one and the pie in the other, but he had to do something. "Festus! NO!" he yelled.

Calleigh might be able to hide the truth from everyone else, but her husband knew her far]too well. She was just as angry now, as she was when they threw her in there.

Calleigh knew she had been caught, but it was too late for Festus. He had ventured too close to the bars. Small, purposeful hands slid outside the bars, grabbing the hill man around the neck. The screaming, although high-pitched, was not coming from the redhead.

"Newly! Help me!" Festus' face paled under the whiskered surface.

His capturer pulled his head closer to the bars. "You know that little hangy down part you're so partial to?" Festus' head bobbed rapidly. "Well, I'm going to beat cousin Eliab to it, if you don't unlock this door."

" **Calleigh O'Brian!** If you don't let him go this instant, I'm gonna…gonna…tell your mother!"

For a second, the room was encased in silence."You're gonna **what**!?" Calleigh was stunned just enough by his childish threat, to let Festus slip away. "You're going to **tell** on me!"

Festus backed toward his friend, gingerly rubbing both earlobes. He looked at the beleaguered young husband.

"It's all I could think of saying." Newly turned back to his wife and without a word, slipped the coffee and pie on the floor through the bars. Then he backed against the opposite wall and slid down, taking a seat on the floor. Festus looked at the caged woman, then at his friend. Finally, he pulled up a piece of the floor for himself.

For a few minutes, it was quiet, while Calleigh stared at the two men. Finally, she too took to the floor on her side of the bars. It wasn't the fighting, the yelling, or the physical restraint that settled down the young warrior. It was the helpless expression worn by the two men she loved. She picked up the peace offering and took a bite. "Good. Want a bite?"

The two looked warily at each other. Calleigh rolled her eyes. With a labored sigh, she turned the fork around, yielding her weapon, so to speak. "Okay, I apologize."

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9 - The Marshal's Shopping Trip

**Flame Series #8: Death Train**

 **Chapter 9**

 **The Marshal's Shopping Trip**

Calleigh pulled the buggy up to the jail. It had been two days since she was released for good behavior, after Newly determined her behavior was as good as it was going to get. Today, she hopped out onto the boardwalk and held up her arms to catch the tiniest redhead. "Jump! Sissy will catch you."

Just like her sister, Hadley had no fear as she launched her giggling body forward. "Get me."

"Whoa!" Calleigh caught the child and swung her around in one fluid move. "What a brave girl. Come on, let's surprise daddy." Shifting the toddler to one hip, the older sister walked through the open door of the Dodge City jail.

Matt threw his pencil down onto the stack of papers and readied himself for the curly-headed tornado rushing toward him. He came up from his seat, with a squealing toddler in his arms.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from both my pretty girls?"

His oldest child remained in the doorway. Neither she nor the marshal could get a word in, as the little one had taken control of the conversation. Hadley rattled off words that Matt was pretty sure that Webster fella didn't give an account of in his book. A few intelligible words surfaced, but for the most part, it was all Greek. The best they could do was respond with a few _uh-huh's_ and _ahh's_ , which was more than enough to pacify Hadley.

"It's not really a visit, Matt." Calleigh offered a shy grimace. "Tray Mathison caught me at Jonas' store. His brother, Tygh, broke his cast and I need to run out to their house. I don't want to take her out there, but I don't have time to take her home. Those boys are too rough for her to be around."

Matt readjusted the squirming child on his arms. "Broke his cast? You mean broke his arm."

Cool blue eyes rolled under arched brows. The young physician shook her head in a condescending gesture. "No, I meant he broke his _cast_. His brothers, Tray and Tipper, put it in a vice to see how strong it was. This is the third cast I have put on that boy. Like I said, I don't want Hadley around those ruffians. Can you watch her for me? I won't be long."

"What do you say?" He held the toddler higher up on his chest. "Want to help daddy marshal this town?"

Red curls bounced with every nod of her head as she agreed. "I help daddy." Finally! Words they understood.

Calleigh met them in the middle of the room, giving the little one instructions to behave and a kiss good-bye.

Matt felt his heart swell behind the badge as he held one daughter, while kissing the other. It was a reminder to the piece of tin: _You may define me, but you no longer rule me_. He closed the door behind Calleigh and turned around with his little charge. "What do you say we go on rounds to make sure the town is safe?"

"Sissy go wif us?" Hadley traced the letters on his badge with a pudgy little finger.

"Nope. Just you and me on this one, moppet." Matt grabbed his hat from the peg and slipped it on, before heading out the door.

"I want a daddy hat." Curious fingers moved from the badge to the Stetson.

"Didn't momma just buy you a pretty yellow bonnet?" He shut the door behind them as he stepped out onto the boardwalk.

Hadley leaned back, framing Matt's face with her hands. "Momma buyed a baby hat. Pwease daddy, I wanna a gwowed up hat. I want a daddy hat. Newie got a hat."

"Well. Baby girl, those are for big men. Pretty ladies wear bonnets. Like your momma. You've seen all her pretty hats." All ten thousand, he mumbled under his breath.

For a moment she seemed to be contemplating his words, but only briefly. "Sissy not got pwetty hats. Her got a daddy hat."

Matt looked around the boardwalk. He could convince hardened men to put down their guns, but he couldn't win an argument with his two-year-old daughter. "I got an idea. Let's go down to Jonas' store and see if he can order us a hat."

"No baby hat!" Hadley stared at him with the same sapphire eyes her mother flashed when she meant business.

"No baby hats." He promised.

The walk down Front Street was a bit of a social event for the marshal and his young lady. She was quite the charmer and attracted attention from everyone that passed by. Wilbur Jonas was no exception when they entered the store.

"Mr. Jonas, we need to order a hat." Matt looked at his daughter as if to verify his request.

Blue eyes and a streak of freckles peered up at the storekeeper. "No baby hats!" She said emphatically. "A daddy hat."

"Ahhh, I see. A cowboy hat." Jonas winked at the marshal "Sounds like she knows exactly what she wants." He reached under the counter, producing a measuring tape, pencil and paper. "Cavanaugh's' Millinery in Wichita will make one, but it's…uh-" Jonas paused letting a grimace speak for him.

"Expensive." Matt finished for him and turned to his youngest. "Hear that moppet? It's expensive."

"Not pensive hat! Cowboy hat." Frustration came quickly to the little redhead. She held her daddy's gaze, frightening him almost as much as the other two redheads when they were angry. This one was learning way too quickly.

Matt turned back to Jonas. "Start measuring. Let's get this thing ordered."

The store clerk stretched out the tape and started to work."Did you hear they're not having Sadie Nethers funeral until Friday?"

"Friday?" Matt made a face of disgust that made Hadley giggle. "That's four more days. No wonder it's a closed casket. Why are they waiting?"

"Boyle can't get here until then. I guess the whole town will be going." Jonas finished jotting down the last of the measurements. "Will you be there?"

"Probably. I'm not so impressed with Boyle, but Sadie and Clint were good people."

"True. They were a nice down-to-earth couple." Jonas turned to his customer. "All right, Miss Dillon. What color cowboy hat do you want?"

"Do you want a brown one like Daddy's, or a white one, like Newly's?" Matt waited while the tiny waif seemed to weigh her options. It put a slight touch on his pride that she hadn't chosen his right off.

Hadley redeemed herself with the correct choice. "Bwown. Like yors daddy." She thanked Jonas, like Matt instructed and the two Dillons headed back toward the jail. His little moppet babbled all the way down Front Street. Some of which, he actually understood.

"Look there." The marshal pointed to the buggy in front of the office. "Sissy's back."

No sooner had they stepped into the office, than Hadley began to tell Calleigh all about the new hat. Calleigh cast a smug grin at the marshal. "What's momma going to say about that? She says you spoil her too much already."

"I don't spoil her anymore than I do the rest of my girls." The marshal handed off his youngest to his oldest and tossed his hat back onto the rack. Calleigh had just settled the toddler on her hip, when the office door flew open.

Billy burst into the jail, more irritated than excited. He was eager to get this chore done and be on his way. "Marshal Dillon, Howie sent me to get you. Somebody needs you over to the Dodge House."

Matt stared momentarily at the boy. Why was it, he wondered, every time something happened, Billy Tandle was the one to come running breathlessly into the jail? He quickly crossed the room and retrieved his hat from the peg, as he followed the boy out. "Calleigh-"

"I know, you have to go. We'll be fine. You be careful." She had adopted that same concerned expression that Kitty always wore when Matt left to confront trouble.

Matt caressed the chubby cheek of his baby before turning back to Billy. "What happened?"

"I don't know Marshal; he just said to come get you. Can I go now?"

The lawman followed the boy out the door. He had barely given him permission to leave, when the towheaded boy took off. "Must not have been any gunplay or he would have hung around." Dillon mumbled, knowing the attraction boys had for a good shooting.

With his long legs, the marshal reached the hotel in a matter of minutes. Dusk had brought with it an eerie darkness that shrouded the Dodge House. Howie's thin frame appeared, then disappeared from view, as he paced back and forth inside the lobby. Matt hurried as he stepped up onto the boardwalk.

"Howie, what's going on?" The clerk rushed toward him in such a panic, Matt thought for sure the man was going to hug him.

"Oh, Marshal. She says someone attacked her, but I swear I didn't see anyone!" He pointed a trembling hand toward the billiard room. "I only went in there for a minute-to make sure the light had been put out. Aside from that, I never left the front desk."

"Okay." Matt held up his hands to slow the man down. Between his rapid-fire speech and shaking hands, Howie looked as if he were about to pass out. " _Who_ was attacked?"

"That Mrs. Helton." He pointed up to the room at the back of the hall. "She started screaming and I ran up there. Her clothes were torn, her hair messed up…" Howie paused, reflecting on what he had seen. "She did look as though something happened, but I didn't hear anything or see anyone."

Matt couldn't decide if the name enraged him or frightened him. Truth was, it was a combination of both. Benita Helton was a predator, not a victim and she was after his wife. Kitty was a strong woman, but she wasn't in the same league as Helton. A battle between these two women would be like pitting a lamb against a ravenous wolf.

"Don't worry Howie; I'm sure it's going to be all right." The marshal readjusted his hat, pulling the brim down close to his eyes. There were twenty-two steps leading to the second floor of the Dodge House and not once as he climbed them, one-by-one, did the marshal _ever_ consider this attack to be legitimate. He announced himself as he knocked on the door of room twelve.

The door opened a crack, then a little wider, revealing a frightened, disheveled woman. At least that was the image, Benita was presenting. Her blond hair was messy, but oddly, still sensual. Long, sultry lashes swept upward over tear-filled eyes that refused to spill down her cheeks. She clutched at her torn gown, letting her grip slip with each heaving breath. "Oh, Marshal I'm so glad you're finally here." She stepped aside to let the lawman come in.

"You want to tell me what happened here?" Matt looked around, taking notice of the broken glass next to the dresser and the tangled bedcover.

Benita sniffled softly, dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. "I know you don't like me, Marshal and I'm sorry about the way I acted at the Long Branch."

"Let's just stick to whatever happened here." Matt struggled to separate his personal feelings from his professional obligations as a lawman.

"I knew you wouldn't help me." Now, the tears were set loose. "That man tried to attack me and you aren't going to do a thing about it."

Matt stared at the woman, surprised that the sight of this crying female had no effect on him. Especially since a single tear rolling down Kitty's cheek would cause him to melt like hot butter. "If you were assaulted, I will find out who did it." He glanced around the large room again. "Where's your husband, Mrs. Helton? Shouldn't he be here to help you?"

"He's playing poker at the Lady Gay." She stood up slowly, pulling the tattered robe over her shoulder. "I didn't want to…upset him. I thought it would be wiser to go to the law." She wandered over to the open window and pulled back the curtain. "He ran out here when I started to scream."

Matt was curious as to the real reason she had lured him up here. Was she going to shoot him? It crossed his mind that this might have been a ruse to get him out of the way, so that they could get to Kitty. That was not going to happen, at least not tonight. Kitty was safe at home with Newly and Festus standing guard.

He was becoming more curious as to her motives. It took some effort, but he managed to inflect a note of concern into his tone. "I have a few questions to ask, if you feel up to it." She responded with a heavy sigh and nodded. "Have you ever seen the man before?"

"No. We've only been in Dodge a few days." She stopped abruptly, gazing up at him with deceitful eyes and speaking in a voice that was as thick as molasses. "But you already knew that. We came in on the same train."

"Yes, I remember." The image of Kitty hanging on the side of that train came rushing back. Matt turned away quickly, before Helton could see the rage in his eyes. He walked over to the window to regain his composure. "If he went out through here, maybe there's a witness." Matt struggled to maintain a casual tone. "I'll check around and see if anyone saw him."

"Thank you, Marshal." He could tell by her voice that she was moving around the room. When he turned around he discovered her at the parlor table in the corner of the room. She had pulled out one of the Victorian high back chairs for herself and motioned for him to take the other. "My hands are still shaking I wonder if you would pour me a drink." He spied a crystal decanter and matching glasses in the center of the polished walnut surface. "Please, have one with me?"

Matt studied the woman for only a moment before pouring the two drinks. Again, she nodded toward the empty chair and he sat down.

"I heard that your wife used to own the Long Branch." She held the small glass to her lips barely taking a sip.

It seemed to be an odd question, but Matt decided to play along. "That was several years ago. Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, I forget. You know how rumor mills go in a small town." Helton pulled her chair a little closer to his. "That must have been interesting, owning such a lively place."

"I broke up my share of fights. That's for sure." He toyed with the glass without actually drinking the whiskey.

Helton leaned forward allowing the torn robe to slip just enough to reveal most of her bare breast. "Do you miss it? I mean the wild nights." Matt felt as if she were devouring him with her eyes. "I know how boring being married can get-especially if you've been used to a more exciting nightlife. One not **constricted** with children."

The marshal settled back in the flimsy, spindle-legged chair. He was being seduced! So that was her plan. He sat the full glass on the table. "Being married is different, I will agree." He watched as her long, slender fingers played across his thigh.

"Arthur and I enjoy a…free… _open_ …marriage." The robe hung so loose now, nothing remained hidden.

Matt's gaze barely skimmed across the blond's generous display. Pinching her wrist between his thumb and forefinger as if it were diseased, he pulled it from his leg and dropped it back into her own lap.

"Kitty and I… **don't**!" He rose to his feet, looking down now at the pathetic creature "Maybe your husband wouldn't be so quick to share-if _he_ had what _I_ have."

Matt turned to leave the room. He was not surprised to hear the shattering of glass, as it hit the wall beside his head. The smell of whiskey permeated the air and he knew that the heavy crystal decanter had died a valiant death. The screams that followed him down the hall were not those of a helpless female victim, but the vicious threats of a woman scorned. Arthur Helton was wrong; this time, his wife took rejection very personally.

Howie hurried around the desk. "Oh, my, she really is angry now!" He wrung his hands anxiously, his eyes drawn in the direction of the shrieking woman. "What should I do?"

Matt readjusted his hat, this time pushing the brim back on his head. "Do what I'm doing, Howie. Ignore it." He offered the frightened man a smile and walked out of the Dodge House.

 **TheDillonsTheDillonsTheDillons**

The youngest Dillon slept soundly in her daddy's arms. He stood up slowly, so as not to awaken her. A glance to his right revealed his wife and son, nestled together, asleep on the sofa. The book Kitty had been reading to Cooper rested on her chest, face down. A contented smile crossed Matt's lips, as he made his first trip up the stairs in order to tuck his daughter in for the night.

When he returned to the living room, he was careful to pull Cooper from Kitty's sleeping embrace. The boy barely stirred as his father climbed the steps again. Matt pulled the covers over his son, just as he had done with the boy's sister. Before making his final trip, the marshal visited each of the sleeping children just one more time.

"Constricted," Matt repeated to himself, as he started his final run downstairs. What an odd word Benita Helton had chosen. When his children hugged him, he felt loved; needed; wanted, anything _but_ constricted.

Matt knelt beside the sleeping redhead, letting his fingers brush through her fiery locks. Helton's words echoed in his head again. _Free, open marriage_. The marshal released a haughty snort. "Share her? Not on your life."

Kitty stretched out in the space that had been filled by Cooper. She licked her lips, leaving them slightly parted. That simple sleepy act rendered Matt weak in the knees. It was her pure heart that endowed her with a sense of innocence, despite all she had endured over her lifetime.

"Kitty..." His voice was as soft as the kiss he left on her cheek. "Come on, sweetheart. Let 's get you to bed."

She roused only enough to wrap her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a sleepy kiss. Even half awake, this woman could bring his body to attention. Matt stood up and gently pulled her to her feet. She leaned into him with his arms circled around her waist. His lips brushed along her neck, coming to rest by her ear. "Ready for bed?"

He could feel her smile inside the kiss. Her hands slid down his body coming to rest on the hardness that she had created. "My goodness, Mr. Dillon. Isn't that uncomfortable?"

When he laughed, she could feel his breath on her face. "Very, Mrs. Dillon. Can you help me with it?"

Kitty stepped out of his arms and pulled him toward the stairs. "I think I have just what you need.."

 **HMZHMZHMZHMZ**

Hobie Newsom balanced his size nine boots on the narrow railroad track. He held his arms straight out for balance, as his heavy frame wobbled back and forth with each step. Today was going to be his turn to face the train. Zeke Pilser and Myron Franks had already done it and Hobie wasn't going to be the only boy in their secret club to chicken out.

The White King Boys wasn't much of a club. The name came off of a box of soap that Zeke found on one of their reconnaissance trips along the tracks. All three of the boys were impressed with the picture of the king on the front of the package and quickly adopted it as their moniker. It didn't take much to impress three nine-year-old boys-with too much spare time and too few brains to split between them.

Even their clubhouse was nothing but a dilapidated tool shed, with two of the walls leaning so badly that the boys had to stoop over just to enter the door. Still, the rickety shack was good enough to hold all their treasures, most of which had fallen from the trains.

None of the boys would ever forget the discovery made today. As Hobie wobbled along the rail, Myron and Zeke had gotten into a shoving match and the smaller boy went tumbling over the bank. When he landed in the gulley below the train trestle, Zeke was terrified to see that he was sharing the spot with a half-rotted corpse.

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10 - The Funeral

**Flame Series #8: Death Train**

 **Chapter 10**

 **The Funeral**

"Is Calleigh going to the funeral?" Doc squirmed impatiently while Kitty fussed with his tie. "I could stay with the little ones if she wants to go."

Kitty gave the lapels of his jacket a bit of a tug to stop his fussing. "She is too young to remember the Nethers. I swear, I don't know which you hate more, weddings or funerals."

"Well, they're so much alike!" The older man started to fidget, causing Kitty to smack at his hands. "That grandson, Boyle, is a blowhard. 'Course, what can you expect from a politician!"

"We're going for Sadie Nethers. She and Clint were one of the first couples to settle in Dodge. I think we can put up with an hour of Boyle Nethers, out of respect for them." Kitty finished with the tie and released the grousing old physician with a peck on the cheek. Doc swiped at his mustache in an attempt to hold onto his irritation but as usual, Kitty's kiss melted his crusty heart. Calleigh, Cooper and Hadley were his babies for sure, but Kitty would always be his first surrogate child.

Kitty corralled her children for kisses and last minute instructions, before herding the reluctant old doctor to the buggy.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Arthur watched Jillian prepare for her coup d'état for the Dillon family. She was ready to strike the final blow and it was wickedly brilliant. Not only would Kitty Dillon be destroyed, but it would be done in a way that would prevent the great Marshal Matt Dillon from ever recovering.

"You know what I need for you to do?" Jillie was in no mood for incompetence. She gave Arthur a hard look, warning him not to mess this one up.

"I know. I'll be watching for you in the alley. You're sure you can handle her?" Arthur regretted his question the moment it left his tongue. For a moment, he was afraid Jillie was going to show him firsthand what she was capable of. He swallowed the fear that had balled up in his throat. "Sor…sorry."

"You just be ready!"

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Kitty pulled the buggy up to the hitching post in front of the Prairie Rose. "We have plenty of time. I thought we could stop in here for a bite of pie and cup of coffee first."

"I like the way you think." Doc was about to take Kitty's arm to escort her inside, when Billy Tandle yelled at him from the far end of Front Street. "What is that boy carrying on about?"

By the time Billy reached Doc, he was out of breath. "Doc…the window…your door…it's broke."

"Broke! Dagnabit, if those kids have been playing ball again-"

"Doc, calm down. You go ahead and check it out. I'm going over to the jail to see if Matt is ready to go. We'll meet you at the graveside." Kitty gave his arm a squeeze, as she watched him walk away with Billy, grumbling and threatening all the way down Front Street.

Kitty started to walk away, when something on the custom-painted window of the restaurant caught her eye. She stepped closer, inspecting the Atlantis lettering on the plate glass, taking special notice of the 'P' in _Prairie_. She tapped on the window to get Tia's attention and motioned with her index finger to come closer. Tia looked at the letter in question, instantly spotting the problem. She raised her hand in a halting gesture and hurried back to the kitchen. Within seconds she returned with a wet cloth and swiped across the lettering, removing the brown stain. Suddenly, the missing half of the white lettering reappeared. The two women exchanged smiles indicating success and Kitty waved good-bye as she continued to the end of the boardwalk.

She glanced across the street at the jail as she cleared the two steps leading down to the ground. It was no use trying to fight off the smile that swept across her face, as she pictured the fearsome marshal with his nose buried in paperwork-probably grumbling, much like Doc was earlier. Would the time ever come that her heart stopped beating a little faster at the thought of seeing him? She certainly hoped not.

Just as she started to take that first step leading to the office, Kitty heard a sound in the alley. Laying face down in the dirt between the two buildings, was a body. The sorrowful moans indicated pain, but it was also a good sign that there was still life. Kitty grabbed a handful of skirt, jerking the linen material up and out of the way, so that she could run to help. Lacking her husband's suspicious nature, she dropped down beside the injured body.

As Kitty rolled the slender person over, she realized it was a woman. She was stunned, first by the familiar face and then by the derringer pointed at her heart. "You're a smart lady Mrs. Dillon. Now isn't the time to make a stupid move. Let's get up-together-real slow." The two women rose to their feet, each eyeing the other with careful deliberation. Jillian's amber eyes held no trace of mercy or compassion. "Just head on down to the end of the alley. Quietly."

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

"See Doc?" The young boy pointed to the broken section of windowpane. "It looks like they broke it so that they could reach in and grab the handle."

Doc swiped at his mustache and cast an impatient glance at Billy. He didn't need a fourteen-year-old kid to explain the obvious to him. "Do you think so, Billy! I could probably figure that out." He pushed the boy aside and stepped into the office.

"Anything missing Doc?"

The lad's excitement only fueled the old physician's irritation. "How in tarnation can I tell, if you don't give me a chance to look around! He walked around the room noticing that the only broken glass was in the front door. He didn't see anything missing, but there was something added to the room. The smell of chloroform permeated the stuffy air in the office. Doc retrieved the brown bottle from the cabinet. It wasn't necessary, but he held the bottle up to the light to verify that half of the liquid was missing.

"What is it Doc? What's in the bottle?" Billy peered over the old man's shoulder.

Doc was too intrigued by the theft to hold his anger toward the boy. "Why on earth would someone steal chloroform?" Possibly someone trying to remove a bullet on their own? Someone not wanting the law to know. He would talk to Matt about this after the funeral.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Matt pushed the stack of papers off to the side of his desk. He hated paperwork and it seemed as though the powers that be were constantly sending him more forms and more reports to be completed after each arrest or shooting.

He stood up to stretch out the kinks in his oversized body. Matt snatched up his cup and walked over to the stove for a refill. He stared out the window, peering across the street at the Prairie Rose. Kitty had said something about having a late lunch after the funeral. A smile caught his lips despite the bitter taste of the coffee. As much as he was grateful for his family it was nice to spend time alone with the woman that made his heart beat faster. Even if it was just a meal.

Even though he was staring out the window, he failed to see Hodge Pickens walk right past him and into the office. "Marshal they need you down at the feed mill. Tate Sawyer and Eli Walls is a threatening to shoot each other."

"Again!" Matt glanced back at the clock. It was almost time for the Nethers' funeral, now he was going to be late. Kitty was going to be upset with him. He grabbed his gun and buckled the belt, as he followed Pickens out the door. "I should just let them shoot each other and get it over with."

 **MDKDMDKDMD**

An unusually large crowd had gathered for Sadie Nethers funeral. Most of them were there out of respect for Sadie, but some curiosity seekers were there to get a peek at Boyle Nethers. While giving the eulogy, Reverend Potter managed to work in a sermon for those faces rarely seen on Sunday morning.

Matt walked quietly around the edge of the crowd, searching for his wife and the local doctor. It seemed as though he had arrived just in time to hear Boyle give his own personal tribute to his grandmother. Even though the marshal was only paying half a mind to the speech, he was surprised to hear Boyle actually talked about the lady instead of himself. He was even more shocked to see the Heltons' faces in the group of mourners.

The pallbearers lined up and gently lowered the polished walnut box into the grave. One-by-one, the people walked past, each throwing a handful of dirt into the hole out of respect. From the back of the crowd, Matt heard a familiar voice call his name.

"Matt." Doc stepped away from the group to stand beside his friend. The two men seemed to be inspecting each other, both searching for the same face; both stunned at her absence. "Where's Kitty?"

Matt pulled back, his quick action spurred more by fear, than surprise. "I thought she was with _you_." Those hairs on the back of the marshal's neck stood at fierce attention. This time, his anxious glance was searching for another pair of faces. But the Heltons were gone. "Where did you see her last, Doc?"

"Uh...we...were standing outside of the Prairie Rose, when Billy came running up all excited. I went with him and Kitty said that she was going over to the jail; to go to the service with you. I was supposed to meet up with you two here."

Matt had split his attention between Doc's words and continually scanning the area for Kitty. "What did Billy want?"

Doc scratched his head after giving his earlobe a tug. "Strangest thing, somebody broke into the office. Looked as though the only thing they took was some chloroform."

His answer elicited a sharp stare from the marshal. "No, Doc. That's not the only thing missing..." Matt pulled his hat down over his forehead. "They took Kitty too!"

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11 - Finding Kitty

**Flame Series #8: Death Train**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Finding Kitty**

Matt Dillon's first stop was the Dodge House. It didn't come as a surprise that the Heltons had checked out, but he didn't have time to go look for them right then. The only thing on his mind at that moment, was to find Kitty. He had pulled all the crew, from both the LadyK and Double O, to search the town for her. There wasn't a barn, outbuilding, cave, or open field that had not been explored.

Dillon was going through the buildings in town, eliminating them one-by-one, when Howie came running up Front Street, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Marshal, I think you need to see this!" The bespectacled man waved the telegram in his hand. Howie handed off the yellow sheet of paper, then leaned over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

The color left Matt's face, draining gradually with every word he read. There was a moment of stunned silence before he crushed the telegram in his powerful hands and began to shout for his men. "Festus! Newly! Get Bear and follow me. Doc I'm going to need you too." No time was wasted with questions, as the men mounted their horses and followed the marshal.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Tatum Grimsley had stopped for a quick beer before tackling the job of Sadie Nethers' grave. He stood now, wiping the sweat from his brow, as he turned over the last spade of dirt. Tatum had finally tossed the shovel over his shoulder and started for home, when he heard the sound of horses coming down the road. When he looked up, the first person he recognized was the marshal. Shading his eyes from the sun, he leaned to one side and discovered several men behind the giant lawman.

Matt slid off his horse before Buck had come to a complete stop. Doc had never seen him move this fast. In the back of his mind, the old man knew why they had returned to the cemetery, but his conscious state would not entertain such a horrific thought. It wasn't until he saw Matt grab the shovel and push Tatum aside, that he was forced to accept the truth. He hurried down out of the buggy to help.

The others arrived, and soon, all five men were digging, throwing out the earth that had threatened to swallow Kitty alive.

"Doc, will she sufercate in there?" Festus raced with the others to get the box uncovered.

The old man stood at the mouth of the grave, watching his friends throw one mound of dirt after another from the hole. Doc tried not to picture the panic that his poor Kitty must be suffering. Even when they got her out, how would this affect her? And why wasn't she screaming, or at least kicking at the wooden tomb? He suddenly realized that Festus was still waiting for an answer. "She should have several hours of air. If she stays calm, it will last longer." No one spoke of the other option, Matt wouldn't have allowed it.

When the wooden surface was cleared of all the loose dirt, Matt positioned his men around all four sides. Each secured a hold, as the marshal counted down from three and they lifted the custom-built box up to level ground once again.

Matt fell to his knees. With trembling hands and Bear's help, he pried open the lid. Loose red curls fell against the satin pillow that cradled her head. Her face was pale and she did not appear to be breathing. The sight of his Kitty lying so still on the bed of white satin stole the very breath from Matt's lungs. Paralyzing fear prevented him from drawing in another.

Matt felt an excruciating pain in his chest as his heart fought to sustain a beat. Strong, loving arms slipped under her seemingly lifeless body crushing her to his chest. His blue eyes opened wide, reflecting the terror from within. Lifting his gaze to the only man that could help, Matt turned to Doc. "Do something!" He cried.

The old man tried to pry her from his grip, but the marshal held on too tight. "Let me see her! Damn it, Matt..."

Once again, it was Bear's strength that gently reached in, removing Matt's hands in order to give Doc the access he needed. The elderly physician checked for vitals and with a grateful sigh, settled back on the ground. "She's breathing. She's alive and-thank God, she's unconscious. Now we know where the missing chloroform ended up."

Matt sat on the ground, pulling Kitty back onto his lap. He brushed his lips through her disheveled hair as he continued to press her close. Together they rocked back and forth, while he chanted quietly. "Thank You, God. Thank You... Thank You..."

It was several minutes before he actually posed his question. "She is going to be all right, isn't she Doc?"

The old man swiped at his mustache, "She may be nauseous when she wakes up and possibly have a headache, but nothing serious, I don't imagine. I'm just thankful that she doesn't know where she's been for the last couple of hours."

Newly knelt down beside the couple. "I know what you're saying Doc, but those people wanted her to wake up down…" He stopped, peering down into the black hole. The truth was too ugly to say out loud. The young deputy cleared his throat to leave that thought behind and continued on with a question. "Marshal, how did you know that she was here?"

"It was the telegram wasn't it?" Doc reached over and pulled the paper from Matt's pocket. He read the words aloud in utter amazement. "They found Sadie Nethers' remains in a ravine. The body was not identifiable, but she was wearing a pendant with a picture of her and Clint and a bracelet with her name engraved." He looked up at Matt, his face still reflecting shock. "They must have thrown her from the train." Matt stared into the old man's eyes. Both realizing that the Heltons had planned this for Kitty all along.

"Bear." Matt called to his faithful friend. He was about to release Kitty into the big man's arms until he could get to his feet. However, Bear found a better way, when he slipped his hulking hands under the marshal's arms, lifting both members of the loving couple up, as easily as a mother with a young child.

Matt shifted Kitty within his embrace and offered a grateful smile to each of the men surrounding him. His gaze settled on Doc as he gratefully headed toward the buggy. "Let's get her home, Doc."

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12 - Vengeance or Justice

**Flame Series #8: – Death Train**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Vengeance or Justice**

Jillian was bustling around the room exhilarated by the outcome of her intricate planning. Arthur moved just as fast to get his bags packed, but he was driven more by fear. Actually, outright terror might be a more fitting description.

"Calm down Arthur. By the time they figure out what happened, we will be long gone. Even if we aren't, they have no proof that we were involved." Jillian stopped in mid-stride, wheeling around to face her partner. "It's not like his wife is going to be able to identify us. Now is she?" The laughter that erupted from her lovely, smooth throat was a most wickedly evil sound, so depraved that it sent a chill to the marrow of the mustachioed man.

"Jillie, I think we might have gone too far this time." His regret was a moot point since there was no coming back from this.

Jillian dropped the dresses she had been packing onto the bed. With very deliberate steps she walked toward the frightened man. "Don't – you – dare-!" The fact that she left the threat hanging, only made it more menacing. The manicured nail of the long, slender finger that poked against his chest with each word, looked as though it had been dipped in blood.

Her supple body appeared to relax as she returned to her packing. "I've got a buggy waiting for us downstairs. I was going to surprise you, but you're jumpy as a cat! Relax."

 _I don't know if I can handle any more of your surprises._ Arthur kept this thought to himself. "I'm jumpy because that marshal is going to tear me apart! If he finds his wife, he might even forget you're a woman and kill you too. What if that crazy girl finds us? Jillie, _she'll_ shoot us both for sure!"

"Stop being such a milksop. There is no reason for them to suspect that Dillon woman is in that casket." Jillian smiled through lips painted blood red to match her nails. Her tongue darted out like a tiny snake swiping across her bottom lip. "I will send him a telegram in a couple of weeks telling him where he can find his **_beloved_ wife** _._ " She pointed to the bags as she snatched up her reticule. "Get a boy to take those to the buggy, will you? I'll meet you downstairs."

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

The ride from the cemetery was quiet. Doc peered over at the couple beside him. Kitty had made a few faint stirring sounds, but as of yet had failed to return to the land of the living. Matt refused to take his eyes from her, cradling her to his chest as he tenderly stroked her face. Maybe she would never have true memories as to what just happened, but Matt would never forget-the sight of her lying in that casket.

When Sadie Nethers' body arrived, there would be questions and rumors. The five men that rescued Kitty—along with Tatum Grimsley—had all agreed to never let her know about being actually buried alive. As far as any of the mourners knew, there had only been a few handfuls of dirt on the casket when the mistake was realized.

"You going after them?" Doc asked quietly.

"As soon as we get Kitty settled at home. I want Calleigh to _stay with her_." Matt was adamant on that last part. He knew that the young woman should never be anywhere near the Heltons ever again—not once she found out what they had done to Kitty. And she _would_ find out. Doc understood and agreed with Matt's decision.

"What are you going to do when you find them?" Doc wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Not because he would object, but because he was more fearful that he would approve...of just about anything.

"I can't say Doc. I honestly don't know. They tried to _bury her alive_." Matt had passed the point of rage. He had even ventured beyond the perimeters of a godless wrath. For the first time in his life, he found himself in a cold, emotionless state that held no rules, no boundaries, and no ethical choices. He thought about the question again, but still could only wonder, _what **will** I do_?

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Jillie took the reins away from Arthur and snapped them to get the horses moving. They rode in silence for almost an hour before he realized that they were heading in the wrong direction.

"Jillie, where are you going? We're heading south!"

"I know. We're going to Tulsa. They will all be looking for us in Kansas City, or Wichita." Her eyes darted around as she searched for something. When talking to Nathan Burke, she had questioned him about farms for sale. He had mentioned several but one, in particular, had caught her attention.

Jillian Killeman would not be caught dead living on a farm, but if this place was as desolate as she had been told, it would be the solution to her current problem. Up until now, she had taken note of each of the landmarks that Burke had mentioned: The half-buried wagon wheel, then that pile of rocks at the last turn should indicate that the farm was just a few miles ahead.

"I'm getting thirsty. Let's stop at the next farmhouse and see if they have any water."

"Farmhouse? Jillie, we don't have time to be stopping for water!" Arthur stared at the blond as though he had never seen her before. Everything was just going crazy. "We've got to get on a train and get as far away from here as possible!"

"Look." She nodded toward the rundown house a few miles off. "I said...I'm thirsty. We can stop long enough for a drink of water, can't we?" The blond glanced at her partner, a malevolent smile crinkling the corners of her mouth. "Too bad we don't have a bottle of champagne—to toast the demise of Kitty Dillon! But I guess cheap well-water _would_ be more fitting for an ex-dance hall girl."

Arthur tried not to stare at her, mostly out of fear. He wondered why he had never noticed the shrillness of her cackling laugh. What had happened to that gorgeous woman he had gleefully plotted his future with? As shallow and greedy as Arthur Helton was, he wasn't in the same class as Jillian Killeman. Unfortunately, he was realizing this a little late in the game.

Jillie pulled the buggy up close to the well and climbed down. Arthur was distracted from his troubling thoughts by the fact that the woman had actually gotten out without demanding that he take her hand for assistance. _She must really be thirsty_ , he thought.

"I think the bucket is at the bottom. Pull it up for me, will you, Arthur?" She stepped out of the way to allow him room to step up to the well.

Arthur pulled on the rope and quickly realized there was no bucket at the end. When he leaned over the edge he also discovered the well to be dry. "Jillie, I'm afraid you're out of luck." The laugh he started, stopped just as suddenly when he turned around—only to find Jillian pointing that little derringer at his heart.

"No, Arthur. I'm afraid you are the one who is out of luck. You see, I now _am_ Benita Helton. I don't need you anymore." Gone was any pretense of affection. "More importantly I don't _want_ you anymore." She saw him look around, a hopeful yet hopeless expression on his face.

"Pretty desolate huh? That Burke fella says no one has been out here for months. The soil is bad or some such nonsense. Look on the bright side. Now you don't have to worry about Dillon catching up to you." Having said her piece, Jillie pulled the trigger sending the small but lethal bullet into his black heart. With just a little push on her part, Arthur Helton tumbled to the bottom of the well.

Jillie's shrill, cold-hearted laughter bounced and echoed around the deserted farm. Even the black snake that slithered in front of the buggy, held a warmer heart than the woman beside the well.

However, the snake was scarier to the old mare harnessed to Moss Grimmick's carriage. The horse bolted, just at Jillie was about to step into the buggy. She threw up her hands, grasping for something-anything-to stop her fall. The laughter morphed into screams, as she toppled back and over the rim of the well.

Arthur gave one last gift to Jillian, when his lifeless body broke her fall. She landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of her. It took several minutes to regain her senses and a few more before she could breathe normally again. The disheveled blond sat up, dusting the dirt and debris from her dress. It would take a few additional seconds before the full realization of her predicament started to become clear. Each tick of the fancy little watch pinned to her dress added one more dimension to the full comprehension of her dilemma.

The final grip of reality was more than she could bear. The screaming began as Jillian Killeman realized it was like...being buried alive.

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13 -Karma

**Flame Series #8 : – Death Train**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Karma**

Kitty had been groggy when she finally came out from under the chloroform. Like Doc said, there was a slight headache but nothing serious. The last thing she remembered was fighting with Arthur Helton as he tried to hold the chloroformed rag over her mouth.

Despite the Dillon family's wishes, it was impossible to keep it a secret that Kitty had replaced Sadie Nethers in the casket. Even though rumor had it, it was only briefly. Although lying in a used casket was a disgusting thought, the queen of the LadyK put it out of her mind. Preferring instead to concentrate on the fact that the entire town had once again rallied around her family to help. That and having the peace of mind in knowing that Sadie was at last laying beside the man she had loved for seventy years.

It was strange that the Heltons just seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. Moss Grimmick's horse and buggy came wandering home later that same night. Matt, Festus, Newly and a few other men from the ranch had gone out looking for the couple. They had barely reached the edge of town, when a windstorm came up. Kitty liked to think it was an act of God, clearing away all the ill winds that the Heltons had brought with them to Dodge. Maybe she was right, because after the storm, not so much as a single track of a wheel, or lone hoof print, was left for Festus to follow.

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

Kitty sat on the porch swing watching Matt and the kids gathering flowers for her. Neither of the little ones were aware of the near-tragedy, but they were both excited to help daddy make dinner for momma and to pick the brightly colored blooms for the table. She would never tell that she had already found the packaging from the Prairie Rose for that…home cooked meal.

"Hey, when is that dinner going to be ready?" She left the comfort of the porch swing and started down the steps toward the flower bed.

"Get back up there and sit down." Matt commanded in his most authoritative voice. Not that Kitty ever obeyed that tone. " _We_ are waiting on _you_ tonight. You just sit there and relax."

"Here, momma." Hadley had no fear of that voice either, as she ran toward Kitty, choking a handful of daisies. "Dese for you."

Kitty snatched up the girl and the flowers. "So pretty. These are going to look really nice on the table."

"I know. Coopie got some." She stretched back pointing to her big brother.

Matt followed his son up the path and waited while he handed his mother a second bouquet that had not been squeezed quite so hard. Kitty put the girl down, thanking her children repeatedly for the flowers.

"Cooper, take your sister in and both of you wash up for supper. Your mother and I will be right in." Matt watched the two scamper away before turning back to his wife. The screen door had barely slammed shut when he grabbed her by the waist pulling her into his arms. Instantly he was lost in her sweet scent as he nuzzled the side of her neck. "I'm thinking they need to go to bed right after dinner. Kids need their sleep, you know."

Kitty laughed softly, "I'm surprised you're not having them take their plates up to their rooms and eat their dinner in bed."

Matt suddenly held her away from himself to be able to look into her eyes. A serious scowl made its home on his face. In the next instant, he let her go and ran up the steps to the porch yelling at his children. "Kids, daddy has a surprise for you two!"

 **MDKDMDKDMDKDMDKDMDKD**

Doc rummaged through the medicine cabinet, taking inventory and making a list of what was needed. It was Tuesday, one of the two days when the medical team of Adams & O'Brian manned the upstairs Town Clinic.

Today had been a busy one. Two sore throats, Willie Argot and Fannie Robbels. Odd, those two teenagers would come down with the same symptoms. Tug Mivinia cut his arm on a saw blade. Took several stitches, but he was going to be all right. All three of the Mathison boys were in. Tygh's broken arm finally healed, but now they all had chicken pox. Besides these fine citizens, there were a dozen aches and pains, a sprained wrist and one rather large ugly boil, on the butt of Orville Thaymous, that Calleigh quickly passed off to her mentor. Finally, the last of the patients was out the door.

"Newly and Festus still in the dog house for putting you in jail?" Doc cast a furtive glance at his young colleague. "Or have you already gotten your revenge?"

"Now Poppy, have you _ever_ known me to be vindictive?" Calleigh continued to clean up the table and gather up the dirty linens.

"Label it however you want. My point is, I would have thought those boys would have learned not to get on your bad side. They were just trying to keep you out of trouble, you know."

With a sideways glance that sent chills down the old doctor's spine, Calleigh responded to his question. "Are you—siding—with them Poppy?"

"Me? Oh no!" Doc quickly returned his focus on restocking the medicine cabinet. "Did you order this methylthioninium chloride?"

"I did. I read about it in the last journal. Did you see the article about that German chemist? Heinrich Caro-"

Doc nodded impatiently as his young colleague continued to ramble on with what he already knew. "For urinary infection. I know all that. What I want to know is, why did you order it and where is the rest of the bottle?"

"Oh. Well..." The transformation from cocky to reticent did not go unnoticed. "I needed it…for a patient."

Doc stared at the bottle, trying to recall everything he had read. He tugged at his earlobe as he studied the little redhead, now making every attempt to avoid his scrutiny. "If I recall correctly, one of the side effects is that it would turn urine - blue!

Calleigh stopped her fussing with the towels. She turned slowly, leaning back against the table. The biggest most satisfying grin proudly took center stage on her pretty little face. "Imagine how _frightening_ that would be to a couple of rough tough cowboys." She paused, fluttering long, thick lashes over innocent ocean blue eyes. "Why, that could scare the _pee_ right out of 'em, couldn't it Poppy?"

 **MDKDMDKDMDKD**

The remaining glimmer of the evening sun gave a soft glow to the old Jenkins' farm. Camouflaging the dried up sod, causing shadows to hide the broken down walls of the abandoned home. In the twilight, the homestead appeared peaceful and at rest. Even the nesting birds that perched on the rotted boards of the roof, cooed contentedly.

The harsh winds from last week had stirred up the dirt like a puff of smoke in a tornado covering and distorting tracks for miles around. But tonight the gentle cool breeze had returned allowing the dust to settle comfortably in its rightful place.

There had only been a scant bit of rain, hardly enough to wet the bottom of the old well. Definitely not enough to quench the thirst of an interloper on the farm for long. As the sun finally melted behind the horizon, a faint, feeble voice whimpered from the depths of the old well.

One final, desperate request for water…and then…silence.


End file.
